


Concerning Love and Plumbing

by A_Fool_in_Love



Series: Concerning Another Path [1]
Category: Tawny Man Trilogy - Robin Hobb
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Plotty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 00:25:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 117,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1837633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fool_in_Love/pseuds/A_Fool_in_Love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of scenes written as a divergence from Golden Fool that proceeds as a novel after Chapter 3. Fitz is not dissuaded from seeking an answer regarding the Fool's gender during their confrontation at breakfast. His discovery alters their interactions as they both try to regain an equilibrium in their friendship. Time continues to move inexorably forwards, however, and each of Fitz's decisions leads to changes in the course of time. Civil unrest threatens as the Piebalds become more bold, and Fitz must protect the Prince's secret at all costs. Meanwhile, the journey to the Outislands looms ever closer. Some direct quotes are present in the early chapters to set the scene for the reader, and are cited appropriately. I do not claim ownership over any characters within and I am not making money from this fan-work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

# Chapter 1

_*** The following is transcribed directly from Golden Fool by Robin Hobb, Bantam Books, New York, New York, copyright 2003 pages 400 - 401 for convenience. I claim no ownership over this work. ***_

> "Sit down, " I said. "We need to talk."
> 
> He stood. " I think not."
> 
> " I insist."
> 
> " I refuse." He looked past me, into a distance I could not see. He lifted his chin.
> 
> I stood. " I need to know, Fool. You look at me sometimes, you say things, apparently in jest, but... You let both Starling and Jek believe that we could be lovers." The word came out harshly, like an epithet. "Perhaps you deem it of little importance that Jek believes you are a woman and in love with me. I cannot be so blithe about such assumptions. I've already had to deal with rumors of your taste in bed partners. Even Prince Dutiful has asked me. I know that Civil Bresinga syspects it. And I hate it. I hate that people in the keep look at us, and wonder what you do to your servant at night."
> 
> At my harsh words, he shuddered and then swayed, like a sapling that feels the first blow of the axe. When he spoke, his words were faint. " We know what is real between us, Fitz. What others may wonder about should remain their issue. Not ours." Slowly he turned from me, ending the discussion.
> 
> I almost let him go. It was such a long habit with me, to accept the Fool's decisions on such things. But suddenly it did matter to me what others in the keep gossiped about, what Hap might overhear as a crude jest in a Buckkeep Town inn. " I want to know!" I suddenly roared at him. " It does matter, and I want to know, once and for all. Who are you? What are you? I've seen the Fool, I"ve seen Lord Golden, and I heard you speek to that Jek in a woman's voice. Amber. I confess that baffles me most of all. Why would you live as a woman in Bingtown? Why do you allow Jek to go on believing that you are a woman and in love with me?"
> 
> He did not look at me. I thought he would let my questions go unanswered, as he so often had before. Then, he took a breath and spoke quietly. " I became Amber because she most suited my purpose and needs in Bingtown. I walked amongst them as a foreigner and a woman, unthreatening and without power. In that guise, all felt free to speak to me, slave and Trader, man and woman. That role suited my needs, Fitz. Just as Lord Golden fulfils them now."
> 
> His words cut right to my heart. I spoke coldly what injured me most. " Then the Fool too was only a role? Someone you became because it 'suited your purpose'? And what was your purpose? To gain a doddering king's trust? To befriend a royal bastard? Did you become what we most needed in order to get close to us?"
> 
> He was not looking at me, but as I gazed at his motionless profile, he closed his eyes. Then he spoke. " Of course I did. Make of that what you will."

_*** End transcript. The following dialogue diverges, but similarities in the dialogue will occur as I attempt to stay true to what the characters were thinking and feeling***_

My fury rose. That the man whom I had called my friend had lied to me, no, that he had never truly existed at all tore at my heart and made me bare my teeth in a snarl. Who was this person standing in front of me? Within moments I was standing nearly breast to breast with the stranger I had called friend for decades. My eyes narrowed and I saw his amber eyes widen in response but he did not step back. I watched as he was at first discomfited by and then chose to dismiss my physical display of anger. " And who are you then?" I demanded of him, " What are you? And how is it that you can claim my friendship let alone to love me when all you have done is lied?"

At my words his expression was stricken and I stamped down the brief guilt I felt at the pain I saw in his eyes. What right had he to be wounded by my words? I hardened my heart and my stare. His brow furrowed as his own rare anger flared to life and he suddenly stood straight, raising his chin and meeting my eyes defiantly. " Who am I? You know who I am. I have been friend to you, or I thought that I have, for years. I have even given you my true name! As for what I am, you know that, too. Why is it that you must insist on defining the parts of me when it is only by the whole of me that you can know me? Were you willing to try, you would be able to, but you persist in dwelling on details that are irrelevant. Why is it that you cannot bring yourself to accept the whole of me? I have shown more of myself to you than any living soul and I would give you all were you but willing to accept it, though you have shown that you are not. What part of me is so displeasing to you that you would continue to deny it? Have I not always accepted and cherished you as you are? And by those words, admit another truth. You know that I love you. Let us not, here and now, alone together, pretend that you do not. I have always loved you. I always will." 

He continued to meet my gaze, defiant in the face of my anger and confident of the words that he spoke. Our tableau held for some silent moments and our breath mingled in the space between us. His declaration demanded an answer and yet as I thought, my anger, simmering as I absorbed his words, boiled once more. Always had the Fool been known to speak in riddles and to play tricks with words. He used his jester's tricks now against me, as he _always_ had, and it infuriated me." You have not answered my questions." 

" You have not been willing to accept my answers."

" ANSWER ME." I roared and I pushed him backwards. He stumbled but remained on his feet, golden eyes wide and lips parted in shock. I stepped closer again and waited.

He met my eyes a moment longer, then averted his gaze. " Must we do this, Fitz?"

" Yes. We must."

My answer had disappointed him. He was going to have to accept that he could not continue on in this charade.

" I love you, Beloved." He said quietly, " You are more important to me than I can express. But words cannot define a person. You deceive yourself with the importance you place on them. It is a false comfort that you seek."

" Fool." I warned him. 

He met my gaze again, and by the set of his lips I knew that no direct answer would pass them. His stubborness would yield this time though, I vowed. Swift as a wolf seizing its prey I grasped him by his narrow shoulders and propelled him backwards until his back met the wall. His hands seized my arms and he twisted in my grip as he attempted to win free of my hold. His thumbs dug into my flesh and I gave a hiss of pain as I was forced to release my grip or be brought to my knees. With surprising agility he darted under my arm and to the right but I sprang and tackled him to the floor. We landed without grace and with a solid thump. I heard the Fool's breath knocked from his chest and he coughed trying to reclaim it as he struggled beneath me. With my superior height and weight I attempted to pin him one armed while I used my other hand to pull at the collar of Lord Golden's no doubt rediculously expensive dressing gown. This proved to be a mistake, however, as he twisted and reversed our positions. 

Never had we engaged in a physical fight before. We, or rather I had come close one night years ago, when I nearly struck him for suggesting that I had sired a bastard on Molly. I was surprised now that Justin and Serene had managed to beat him as badly as they had, for he held me securely. I had the advantage over his slender build, however, and reversed our positions once more. 

" Fitz! Stop this!" He shouted, battling once more to free himself.

" Answer me!" I demanded in return, " Who and what are you?" 

" How can you even ask?" He spat the words, glaring back at me as he fought.

" Tell me!" 

" I will not!"

At his refusal, I mercilessly tore open his elaborate robe and stared down at my friend. His long golden hair was tangled and pooled on the floor beneath him and he stared back at me, shocked into silence, before abruptly turning his head aside and shuting his eyes tightly as if by not seeing me he could also hide himself from my sight. My own silence held and I did not move. The anger that had fueled me to such action had evaporated. 

" Get off of me." the Fool demanded in a low voice that sounded as loud as our previous arguing had been in the sudden silence. When I did not move he shouted, " Get off!" 

I obeyed numbly, backing away a few steps before scrambling from the room and into my chamber. The door to the Fool's bedchamber slammed shut, but I heard it as though it were miles away. I triggered the secret passageway, entered Chade's labarynth and did not stop walking until my heart had calmed and I was thoroughly lost. The initial numbness shattered and I sank to my knees, cradling my head in my hands. Thoughts and emotions lay seige to my mind, setting my whole world into turmoil. What had I done? My removal of the Fool's robe had revealed precisely wrapped strips of cloth about his thin chest. Seen under an ordinary tunic it they would have appeared to be just another shirt worn underneath. But bared this way, even such tight binding could not conceal the curves of a woman's flesh. But that meant that he was really she and the Fool really had lied to me all along. I felt a moment of righteous anger at that, but had he... she really lied? True, none had never been given a direct answer regarding the Fool's gender. But why would the Fool have not told me? If I was so important, if we were supposed to trust one another, and if she loved me why not say something? Why not when Starling had begun calling the Fool a she on our journey to the Mountain Kingdom? Why not any time before or after that knowing that I would never lay with another man? The Fool acted as a boy and then a man to me; if that was a lie then what else was a lie? Who was this person that I had known since childhood? A thousand questions swarmed and hummed through my mind like angry bees. The Fool had still kept this from me. Had deliberately misled me and allowed me to believe a falsehood to achieve some goal. I could not consider such a person my friend. 

I stalked the spy corridors of Buckkeep Castle with no care for making my steps silently and furtively and I was lucky not to have alerted anyone to my presence within the walls. Gilly the ferret eventually found me and gamboled about my feet begging for a bit of sausage or cheese, but I ignored him and eventually he padded along beside me, investigating the nooks and crannies of the warren. Eventually my feet led me back to Chade's workroom. With relief I found it empty and collapsed onto the large bed in the comfortable side of the room. My spirits plunged ever lower and a part of me recognized that this was only worsened by the Elfbark I had so recklessly consumed. I lay there in silence, my mind whirling, and despite having risen not long before, I was drawn down into a sleep that was disturbed only by my own troubled dreams. 

I woke in the dead of night, with Gilly curled beside me on the bed, and soon resigned myself to a very long day. As I looked around the room, I noted that a tray of food had been left out for me and it was then that I noticed how hungry I was. Breakfast had been abandoned in favour of argument. I banished those thoughts for now and crossed to the hearth to build up the fire. I sat and helped myself to bread and cold meats. Anger and confusion still simmered in my heart, though a good portion of that anger was for myself. I had not handled our confrontation well. I had allowed my misgivings to fester and when combined with the dose of Elfbark, they had exploded into an anger that shocked me now as I reflected on my actions. 

Still, had not the Fool provoked that anger by refusing to answer me? I was not sorry that I finally knew of the Fool's gender, but when I thought about how I had attained that answer, shame gripped me. The Fool had always been private, and I had learned long ago that respecting that privacy was a condition on our friendship. When I had entered his room in the tower, that he had occupied as a child, without permission, I had put a small rift between us. This was a much greater violation of that privacy and I was devastated as I realized that I might have turned that rift into a chasm and destroyed our friendship beyond repair. The Fool had been my closest friend for years. But had he? She? Had I only been friends with the illusion that was presented to me? Questions clamored in my mind to be addressed, but I had no answers.

I abandoned the rest of the now tasteless food as well as my thoughts. What would I do now? I had no wish to return to Lord Golden's chambers and it was late. Far too late for a trip to the practice courts or into Buckkeep Town. Instead, I sat at the writing desk and immersed myself in the laborious translation of a Skill scroll. Once there was the suggestion of sunrise in the sky, I ventured down to my chamber for some fresh clothes. I even entered Lord Golden's empty chamber and lingered, making tidying motions though clearly a serving boy had already been through. I dared myself to stay, dared fate to have the Fool emerge from his bedchamber, but minutes passed and I remained alone. I quit my useless shifting of items around the room and exited, letting the door shut loudly behind me. 

_*** The next is another direct quote from the same book, page 407 ***_

> I recall the next three or four days as a time foggy with misery. I did not see the Fool at all. He still admitted his young serving boy to his bedchamber, but as far as I was aware, he himself did not emerge at all. Evidently, Jek saw him at least one more time before the Bingtown delegation departed, for she stopped me once on the stairs. With icy courtesy, she said that Lord Golden had completely cleared from her mind any erroneous opinions she might have formed about my relationship to my master. She begged my pardon if her assumptions had in any way distressed me. Then, in a low hiss, she added that I was the stupidest and cruelest person she had ever met. Those were the last words she said to me. The Bingtown delegation departed the next day. The Queen and her dukes had not given them any firm answer on an alliance, but had accepted from them a dozen messenger birds, and given into their care as many Bingtown pigeons. Those negotiations would continue. 
> 
> On the heels of their departure, there was an uproar in the keep when the Queen herself rode out with a company of her guards late that night. Chade told me that even he had found her action rather extreme. Evedently her dukes found it even more so. The purpose of her ride was to halt an execution in Bidwell, a small hamlet near Buck's border with RIppon. They rode out in the deep of night, evendently in response to some spy's report that a woman was to be hanged and burned the following morning. Torches streaming and the horses' breath smoking, they had departed in haste. The Queen, dressed in her purple cloak and white fox tunic, had ridden in their midst. I had stood at the window and impotently wished that I were riding at her stirrup. My role as Lord Golden's servant always seemed to condemn me to be where I least wished to be.


	2. Chapter 2

# Chapter 2

_*** The following is transcribed directly from Golden Fool by Robin Hobb, Bantam Books, New York, New York, copyright 2003 page 419 for convenience. I claim no ownership over this work. ***_

>   
>  Another handful of days came and went. Lord Golden emerged from his bedchamber, polished and sophisticated as ever, to announce to all and sundry that he once more enjoyed perfect health. His Jamaillian makeup, applied carefully every morning, had become even more extravagant. Sometimes he wore the scaling even by daylight. I suspected that he did it to distract any attention from the darkening of his skin. It must have succeeded, for no one mentioned it. The court greeted his return to health with enthusiasm, and his popularity was undiminished.  
> 

_*** End Transcript ***_

It exceeded awkward for me to step into my role as servingman to Lord Golden once again. I felt ashamed of my actions but still angry at the Fool's deception. Indeed, I could see no sign of the Fool at all. Lord Golden seemed a charicature of himself, such was the extent of his arrogance and aristocratic mannerisms, and yet none seemed to remark any change. As such, I found myself looking at this man, this woman, as though I regarded a stranger, and at the time felt that I truly did. Lord Golden was host to grand evenings of entertainment in his chambers during which I was at his beck, and both youths and maidens of the nobility vied to be invited. His attentions to many of the young girls and a few of the lads bordered on scandalous, and yet the court remained enraptured with the Jamailian noble and his popularity only continued to increase. During an evening of gaming exclusively restricted to Lord Golden's most favoured, I was caught staring as Lord Golden showered compliments upon one of the poor maidens caught in his glamour. He met my eyes unashamedly, raising one thin, elegant eyebrow. I focused on a point beyond them instead, but was unable to completely stop the flush that suffused my face. 

How could the Fool behave in such an unseemly manner and not feel the slightest hint of shame? And with another woman? Not that it stopped her with men either, I noted, recalling the incident with Civil Bresinga. And how could Buckkeep Court simply accept and even idolize this foreign noble? Could they truly not realize that Lord Golden was all a sham? I had not realized that the Fool was a sham, I thought, and the thought sent a fresh stab of pain through my heart. My best friend had been nothing but a lie created by this woman. I should have known. There were countless times at which I should have at least questioned the Fool. He hid everything about himself, except those bits that he chose to divulge, but some signs at least, I should have seen. The Fool had never shaved. He had always been awake later and earlier than others, and taken care to never undress in anyone's company. When I had asked the Fool, long ago during our journey through the mountains, why he had allowed Starling to believe that he was a woman he had replied with " And am I not, fair princeling?". I had believed it a jest at the time, but it was the most direct responce I had received in that conversation that I can recall. Did that mean that I had simply been lying to myself? No. The Fool had done what he had always done, what she had always done, and was currently doing to the people of Buckkeep Court. She gave just enough information along with a convincing act for folk, then allowed them to fill the blanks in the story in and never directly contradicted their erroneous assumptions. 

Such was the direction in which my thoughts had once again turned as I accompanied Lord Golden to his chambers after an elaborate dinner. His cloud of followers dispersed gradually as we ascended the stairs and eventually we found ourselves alone. I held the door for my master and allowed him to preceed me into the room. When I shut and barred the door behind myself, silence descended and I stood awkwardly, watching Lord Golden stride to his writing desk and perch in a way that seemed both graceful and casual on the edge of his chair as he hastily penned a note to some noble or other. I vaguely recalled a conversation about a shipment of Bingtown coffee and how trade had been affected by their war with Chalced. The sun had not yet set, and the last light of the day mingled with the light cast by the small fire in the hearth. It danced on the wood of the chair and shon on Lord Golden's plaited hair in a way that only made me more aware of the deep shadows in the room.

I must have stood and stared overly long because my master turned to me with a look of distain worthy of the deceased Prince Regal, " Well don't just stand there like an idiot, man. I'm sure you must have some task with which to keep yourself occupied. Sa knows that I pay you enough." 

" Fool, I'm sorry." I blurted. Was I really sorry? My lips had formed the words before my mind had considered saying them.

" You insult me in the same breath as you apologize. Badgerlock, we really must work on your manners."

" No, Fool, I mean it. I'm sorry. I should not have.. -"

" Should not have what?" I was interrupted by Lord Golden's angry words. His glare and the faint rose tint to his cheeks betrayed that the reaction was not entirely Lord Golden's, despite the Jamailian accent. " Rather than waste your breath interrupting me with worthless apologies, why don't you simply do what you are paid to do and tidy the room, or build up the fire, or whatever else it is that you servants do."

I chose to ignore Lord Golden and speak instead to the Fool, as Lord Golden ignored FitzChivalry and instead spoke only to his servingman, Tom Badgerlock. It struck me for a moment how odd that was, but I pushed the thought from my mind. " Should not have gotten angry with you. Should not have fought with you. Should not have forced you to give up your secret to me. Should not have taken Elfbark, which likely only worsened my temper. Should not have quarreled with you when you were sick. For that I am sorry. I am still angry with you, though. Were you ever my friend at all? And why would you keep such a thing from me?"

I saw Lord Golden waver, saw the indecision as the person before me decided how to respond to me, and saw him turn away from me back to his writing. " You are raving like a drunk, Badgerlock. If you can neither do your tasks nor keep yourself from bothering me, then please leave." His tone of voice destroyed any courtesy in the request.

" I can't know you if you don't give me a chance, Fool. And right now I have no idea who you are. I don't know how to treat you." My patience was wearing thin, but I vowed this time not to lose my temper.

" I am your master, and you are my servant, however often you forget your place. I see no need for your confusion."

" Once, I thought we were friends."

" How quaint."

" Was any of that ever real?"

Here, I saw the Fool sigh. He still would not look at me. " I have already made myself more than clear regarding my feelings for you, FitzChivalry. I am hardly to blame if you insist on complicating things."

" Why did you not tell me that you are a woman?"

" What would you have me say? Ah, good morning, Fitzy-fitz!" the pitch of his voice rose as he did an impressive mimick of his younger self, "Fine weather we're having, shame about all those red-ships though. I've got a sock down my tights, and I think I might be growing breasts, did you know?"

I sputtered, " Don't be rediculous. You should have told me."

The Fool looked weary, suddenly, and the false levity was gone from his voice as he replied, " A secret can only remain a secret if it is never shared. I know that you understand. If I had told you, some action of yours or some careless word could have betrayed me. You would not be able to see me the same way, and I can see that my supposition was correct. I still fail to understand why it matters so much to you."

" Of course it matters! " Now I was angry. " Do you think me so indiscreet that I could not keep such a secret? I have been neck deep in intrigue and secrets since I was a child!"

" And you never told Molly about your apprenticeship as an assassin did you? Nor all of the jobs that you did for your king?"

" That's different." And he knew it.

" How?"

" I did horrible things, Fool. I killed people without giving them a chance to fight back on the word of a single man simply because it was my duty. You cannot compare that to misleading me about your gender." 

" But now that you know, you say that you no longer know me. Why? Why does what is or is not between my legs make any difference in who I am?"

" It just does! And there's still the fact that you lied to me. That the Fool never existed at all." Voicing that thought made me wonder if the Fool persona being presented to me now were real or if it was simply being performed for my benefit.

He.. She appeared saddened by my words. The Fool finally met my eyes with pools of liquid honey. " That you can say that shows that you truly do not know me as well as I had thought."

" No I don't." I agreed, meeting his gaze with my glare. " And I wish that I knew my closest friend."

" Would you have treated me differently had you known?" She asked, quietly, in a voice that was neither the Fool's nor Lord Golden's, nor Amber's, but was a soft contralto, "Would you have let me fly away on Girl on a Dragon? Would we have made ribald jests at the cook fire to make Starling angry? Would you have sent me off with Kettricken the night that King Shrewd died? Would you still have helped me after the coterie put a bag over my head and beat me? Would you have laughed at my jester's tricks? Would we have spoken at all?" The questions came in a torrent. " I ran away and traveled far to seek out my catalyst. When you appeared I had already chosen my role in King Shrewd's court." 

" Well, of course. But the fact that you can even ask those questions of me means that you acknowledge that your gender makes a difference."

" I acknowledge that it matters to you, though I know not why. Why should it be anything more than insignificant compared to everything else? All of the wonderous and horrible things we have seen and those yet to come? All of the small moments of shared laughter and sadness and being snatched from the jaws of death time and again? All of the silences where we would sit companionably without the need for spoken words?"

" If the Fool was just a role you played, then was any of that really you?"

" All of it." She said, bowing her head, " Lord Golden is an arrogant and detestable man, but I appreciate fine clothes, good food, and expensive things. Amber lacked my humour, but in all else we were similar. The Fool was a fool. But for all of the riddles and jests, I am he. All of these roles are but facets of myself, with certain qualities emphasized over the others. Have not you noticed Lord Golden's sarcastic and witty insults? The Fool's elaborate clothing? Ever have I been your friend. I am not a different person than the one you have known. We have still shared all of those memories and not once have I spoken you a lie. I am the white prophet, and you are my catalyst. Together we must fight against fate to put the world on a better path. Only now you know what I've got under my clothes. Don't think that means anything has changed. Although I am still upset with you for ruining my robe. It was made of the finest Jamailian silk." She smirked a bit at this last comment and I was glad to see that it was the Fool's smirk. 

It felt good to hear that our friendship had been real. That despite this new revelation, the Fool still existed and was still my friend. The relief was short lived though, as I soon realized the implications. The Fool had admitted that she loved me. We had slept back to back on countless nights and I was sure that she had seen me unclothed on numerous occasions. The thought made heat rise to my face, but my thoughts were cut short by the Fool's query, " These weren't from you, were they?" 

He held the small black and white posy that the garden girl had sent up with his breakfast tray. " What, the flowers? Of course not." 

My incredulity seemed to offend her, and I cursed myself for sounding so harsh. " I see.. Then who?" she asked, quietly.

" The garden woman, she puts one on your tray every morning." (Quote from page 403)

The Fool was silent for a time. I had the strange feeling that I had taken something away from her, and felt oddly guilty though I was not sure why. " I wonder, if I did not chose the wrong path all those years ago. Would you have still loved Molly, if you knew back then?"

It was such a change of topic that I was stunned for a moment, " I don't know. I think so. I love Molly. We had known eachother since we were children. I don't think I could help but fall in love with her."

" Do you think that you could have loved me?"

" Maybe. Yes. I dont know." I was uncomfortable.

" You continue to confuse plumbing and love, Fitzy-Fitz." The Fool smiled, sadly. " You would not love me completely when you thought that I was a man because you expected bedding to have something to do with it. I would never ask anything from you which you did not first offer me yourself. Knowing that your love is contingent on whether I stand or squat when I piss is a bit disheartening."

" I have always loved you, Fool." I defended myself, " Just.. not as a man would love a woman, but as my dearest friend."

" Fetch me my slippers, Badgerlock, and remove my boots for me." Lord Golden commanded imperiously, moving to sit in his larger cushioned chair. 

I could think of nothing to say, and so I obeyed.


	3. Amber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The divergence begins, and Fitz is awkward. This is a re-posting of the previous Chapter 3 called " Lord Golden" with a modified ending that is, in my opinion, better than the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have read the old chapter three entitled " Lord Golden" (now deleted), you may skip ahead to the conversation that takes place after the ride with Prince Dutiful. I had posted that chapter in too much haste, and belatedly decided to change the ending. I am sorry. I hope to avoid doing this in the future. At the price of slower updates, I will instead take the time to read and re-read chapters to ensure that I am happy with them before proceeding.

Chapter 3 (new ending)

Weeks passed, and life had returned to what passed as normalicy in those times. Buckkeep had become more quiet since the departure of the Bingtown delegation and the Outislanders. Nevertheless, Lord Golden found any excuse to host lavish parties and exclusive gaming events. It was not only improper for me to speak with him during these events because of my station, but also impossible because of the sheer number of guests. Lord Golden had indeed cultivated many acquaintances during his stay at Buckkeep, and every one of them sought to use him to advance their status at court. The thought made me angry for a moment, which was irrational, since Lord Golden did not really exist. I shook my head. Lord Golden was real, as real as the Fool, and Amber, and all were a part of this person who was my friend. Anyone trying to use Lord Golden was still trying to use her, just without knowing the whole of who Lord Golden was. Once, I had attempted a discreet word to the Fool during a rare moment alone in Lord Golden's chamber, warning him to be cautious of a certain Lord Thistle who was only attempting to ingratiate himself with Lord Golden to take advantage of his trading connections to the south. Lord Golden only gave me a tolerant smile, at once amused and annoyed and tutted about servants who ought to trust the judgment of their masters.

Lord Thistle had unfortunately been forced to leave court after a rather embarrassing incident at dinner in the Great Hall during which he had had an unfortunately acute attack of the flux. Lord Golden had chuckled over the story, while I felt my own grim satisfaction.

It seemed that Lord Thistle was only the beginning, however. Rumor of Lord Golden's limitless wealth and connections in the 'birthplace of art and culture', Jamailia, seemed to have spread throughout the Six Dutchies. Nobles from every minor family simpered and sighed when he breezed into a room and effectively captured the occupants with his confident smiles, carefully placed flattery or condemnation, and tales of sea serpents and far off places. Civil Bresinga seemed to be the only youth not affected, and when both he and Lord Golden were invited out on morning rides with the Prince, Civil often hung back and scowled or attached himself firmly to Dutiful's side. I suspected that Dutiful would rather not have had me along, he had maintained a frosty anger toward me since discovering and breaking my skill command on him, but Lord Golden was expected to be there and where Lord Golden went, so did his man.

Lord Lalwick, who had, to my embarassment, expressed an interest in me at the Prince's betrothal ceremony, seemed to have shifted his attentions onto my master. Both Lord Golden and I were dressed rediculously, in my opinion, for horseback riding. That morning, I had emerged, bleary eyed, from my chamber dressed in my servant blues only to be ushered right back in again by an already impeccably primped and polished Fool. I sighed and sat on the edge of my bed as he began rummaging through my meager posessions. " Honestly, Fitz, how on Earth did you manage to wrinkle every bit of clothing that you own?" He demanded, holding up a yellow shirt infront of his view of me and cocking his head as he decided if it would do. I hoped he wouldn't pair it with the yellow leggings. 

" I've never much cared about how I look." I explained, scratching my chin and watching as the Fool's tidiness was unleashed on the clothing chest. 

" And that is a tragedy and a waste." He declared, holding up a new shirt, this time in a pale blue like a summer sky. With a proclamation of " too much blue!" the shirt was neatly folded and packed away again. " I will not have my serving man looking like a common farmer. Though that, I suppose, is part of your charm. That you can go about however you please, with your hair tangled from the wind and still be able to turn every head in the keep."

" I don't turn heads." I grumped.

" Oh yes you do, you simply don't notice it." The yellow shirt was set out, much to my displeasure. The Fool was attired in tight fitting golden tights, several shades darker than his hair and skin, with a matching shirt and a cream coloured jacket trimmed with golden embroidery and enough lace to trim the dresses of every serving girl in the keep. His hair was tied back simply with a cream coloured ribbon. Her hair, I recalled abruptly, and looked away.

In my moment of distraction, it seemed that my own outfit had been chosen as a compliment to hers. The Fool stood infront of me, expectantly holding out the pile of cloth, lace, and ribbons. I groaned, " Fool, is this really necessary?"

" Yes, it is. Trust me. You're going to look astounding. Leave your leggings as they are, the blue will go well with the yellow, you're going to need to change your shirt and jacket though, at least, if we're going to have you looking presentable. Perhaps matching boots as well." He sighed and set the clothes down beside me, " Well, go on. I want to see how well I've done putting this all together."

I reached for the laces of my shirt automatically and then paused, staring at her. 

" You know that I'm good at this. I won't make you look like a fool." She smirked.

" Could you.." I stammered, " I don't - You need to leave. It wouldn't be proper for me to undress in your company."

An elegant eyebrow was raised, " Oh? I don't seem to recall you objecting to my presence before. Infact, I'm quite sure that it was I who undressed you in the mountain kingdom, so it is nothing that I haven't seen before."

" That was before." I explained, awkwardly.

She gave a snort of distain for my discomfort, but obligingly compromised by turning around so that I could change my shirt with a modicum of privacy. She seemed to know when I had finished, because she turned once I had started on the jacket, and began efficiently tying the ribbons into place with long, nimble fingers. It was the least practical ensemble I had ever seen. " Now come, Fitz, you need to shave and it wouldn't do for you to bleed all over this fine cloth."

I was herded back out into the main chamber where I was seated at the table, where the Fool already had the necessary paraphanalia and warm water assembled. " What exactly are we doing this morning, to necessitate so much... " I trailed off, flapping my arms vaguely to indicate the numerous ribbons and bits of lace, as the blade was set to work.

" We, are accompanying Prince Dutiful and a select number of other nobles on a leisurely ride about the countryside." Lord Golden explained, " No one as important as me, of course, but the company should not be entirely distasteful. As such it is of the utmost importance that you dress for the occasion. It is a great honour to be invited to accompany the Prince."

" None of this is suitable for riding." I complained.

" Stop complaining. You'll manage well enough, and you will look amazing doing it." And with that I was silenced as the Fool set to work shaving off the stubble that had accumulated along my jaw. I was not cut once. He curried my hair back into its warrior's tail, and we set out, I one step behind and to his left.

Now we rode along, I on Myblack and Lord Golden astride Malta, as part of the Prince's entourage. Lord Golden was honored with a position at the Prince's stirrup, and I behind him. Lalwick presumed to ride at my master's side, interjecting into the conversation with lame attempts at wit. I scowled. Even the Prince seemed to take notice, for he smiled on Lord Lalwick in a slightly confused way, but said nothing.

By the time we returned to the stables, I was seething. It must have shown on my face, because Lord Golden gave me a querying look as I assisted his dismount. Unfortunately, it is the nature of such events to draw on for as long as possible. Pleasantries were exchanged, and everyone vied for the attention of the Prince, as well as the more elevated nobles. 

Lalwick was not interested in the Prince. Probably too young for him, I thought angrily. Definitely too young. Lalwick was in his middle years, and gave off an aura of unassuming kindness. He was being entirely too kind, though, and he was touching Lord Golden far too often. A casual hand placed on the shoulder or arm to emphasize a point, a brush against his side as he leaned to stroke Malta's mane and praise her breeding. I knew that it was no accident, for he had once employed that same tactic on me. The thought made me irritated. That he harbored such intentions towards another supposed male was his own business, but this was my friend and not truly a male at all. I could not say why it gave more fuel to my anger that Lord Golden seemed to encourage him: laughing at some unintelligent jest, and making suggestive comments. Why did he lead the man on like that? The fifth time Lalwick made as if to place his sweaty hand on my master's sleeve, I stepped in and caught his wrist, moving myself between them to glower at him.

The man's little eyes widened as he took in my murderous expression. He recovered well though, and turned his gaze to Lord Golden who had stepped up to my side to place a restraining hand on my forearm. He scowled up at me in a haughtly display of disapproval, " Calm yourself, man!" He chastised me loudly enough for our gathered onlookers to hear, " He meant no harm. Really, bodyguard you may be, but there is no need to be so jumpy among friends. If you are so eager to fight, you may spend your afternoon at the training grounds." With that, my verbal punishment was apparently over, for once I had released the greasy man, Lord Golden turned on Lalwick with a charming smile, designed to smooth any ruffled feathers. " Servants! I simply cannot appologize enough for my serving man's rudeness. You must excuse the poor ruffian. I took him on as a favour to a friend, because I thought that a bit of protection would do no harm in a growing town such as Buckkeep, but really I never expected him to be quite so protective."

The situation had been diffused, the gawkers soon lost interest, and the party made its way back into the castle while the stable hands cared for the horses. I caught Dutiful giving us a curious glance, but when he saw me looking his way, he quickly turned away.

Once we were safely in Lord Golden's chambers, it became apparent that my scolding was not yet finished. Lord Golden vanished as the Fool paced in an agitated line before the table. " Why did you do that?" He demanded, fixing his amber gaze on me as he paced.

" Lalwick was.. " I suddenly could not find the proper phrasing. How to explain that I thought the man had an interest in Lord Golden that was not merely political? " Behaving in an inappropriate way... I thought to... dissuade further advances." I explained, lamely.

" I know what the man was doing, Fitz, and it was harmless. I know how to handle people like him." The Fool stopped her pacing to face me, arms crossed.

I was incensed, " Oh, like how you handled them out there? Flirting and encouraging him?"

" Yes!" The Fool exclaimed, " And no more than that. The man was flattered by the attention of a younger man of such high stature, but would never endanger his delicate position at court by risking any scandal with me, no matter how dashing a figure I cut." At this, he batted his eyelashes and smiled, winsomely at me, " Don't tell me dear Fitzy is jealous! For shame! Show some honor to the memory of Lady Thyme!"

I let my disapproval known in my silence. The Fool sighed, " Fitz, you're being unreasonable! I tell you that nothing has changed, that we are friends as we have always been, but you keep doing.. things!" She ruffled her own hair in agitation and some strands came loose of the ribbon. " You tip-toe around me. You pull out my chair when I am not being Lord Golden, and you stand when I enter the room. You refuse to take your shirt off in front of me for fear of offending me when you never have before. Any perceived threat to Lord Golden is done away with discreetly, and you attempted to defend my honour from Lord Lalwick this morning. Never have you done any of these things before. Some days I fear that I had taken a wrong turn, by not telling you from the beginning. I appreciate your protection, Fitz, it means a great deal to me that you would do such things for me, but I fear that everything is changing between us now. Why can things not stay as they have always been? I am still the same person I have always been. Why must you treat me any differently now that you know my secret?"

" I didn't... I thought." Had I really been so different?

" Fitz, I can take care of myself. I have done so for years, and I am not some swooning maiden to be coddled and protected."

" I know that, I just…"

" I do not need any special treatment because of this, Fitz. You are my friend. You are neither my lover nor my husband to be getting jealous over another man's attentions. You have already made it abundantly clear that you would never wish to lay with me and that you love me as a man loves his best friend."

" You cannot seriously be considering laying with the man!"

" No, I am not. But the fact remains that you had no reason to cause a scene over so trivial a thing as his touching my arm. I'll have to work hard to stop too many rumors from flying!"

" So you believe that it is fine for you to flirt shamelessly with anybody like a common tavern whore?" I demanded, harshly.

I saw the Fool's eyes narrow with hurt and anger, " Better than sleeping with anybody like someone we both know, sating my lust with whomever is available. Tell me, how many little Fitzs are roaming the countryside now?"

I saw red. As ever, the Fool's words could pierce a man's armor, and he sought and struck my weak point mercilessly. I controlled myself though. " Two, as I'm sure you well know. Though I was not in my own body at the time one was created."

The Fool laughed without humor. It was an ugly sound from someone usually so light of spirit. " Yes, I am aware, Fitz."

There was silence for a moment as we both regained our composure. She was the one to speak first. " I apologize, Fitz." She met my eyes with sincerity, " I do not seek to excuse myself by saying this, merely to explain that this has been difficult for me. I value your friendship more dearly than any other's. I do not wish to lose that friendship because of... plumbing. I spoke in anger borne from frustration rather than any true ill feelings towards you."

" And I too.. I apologize." I moved to sit down, and the Fool was seated as well, so that we faced eachother. " I spoke harshly. Truly I do not know why I am angry. You have a right to lay with whomever you will. I cannot deny you that, and it is good that you would let your affections go where they would be reciprocated."

" Fitz, listen to me. I have no wish to bed with that man, nor would he wish to bed with me did he know my secret, I'll wager. I was merely acting out the part of Lord Golden and ensuring that Lord Lalwick would become a valuable connection."

" I wish you would not do it in so unseemly a way." I muttered.

" Nothing will come of it." The Fool promised. I noticed that it was not a promise to refrain from such behaviour, but I said nothing of it.

" Very well." I was abruptly awkward. " Shall I heat water for tea?"

" Please do."

As I puttered about that homely task, Lord Golden removed his jacket and hung it, neatly, in the wardrobe, and untied his hair before disappearing into his bedchamber. He emerged as my Fool again and sat crosslegged in his chair, with a piece of wood in his lap the size of my fist and his carving tools spread on the table before him. He placed Lord Golden's expensive kerchief over his lap to catch the falling shavings as he started to work on his carving. 

" What are you making?" I asked, as I sprinkled herbs into the pot.

" A gift. I shall let you see it when it's finished."

" Ah." I gathered the cups I had purloined from the kitchens and set them on the table, out of the way of his tools and out of range of any falling bits of wood.

" Did you know that wizardwood is the hardest known wood in the world?" The Fool queried into the silence.

" No, I did not." I answered honestly.

" It is extraordinarily difficult to carve, and its grain is wonderfully fine. It is the only wood able to resist the acid water of the Rain Wild River, and so liveships were built with hulls and figureheads of wizardwood. Some of the older ships also have their decks made of the stuff."

" I overheard your conversation with Jek, " I admitted. " She mentioned that you had carved a ship's figurehead in my likeness. The Paragon." That conversation was burned into my memory now, "Is that true?"

" It is." The Fool went on carving, silently, for a time. I poured the tea. " Paragon was blinded. His eyes and his face had been chopped with a hatchet and he... It was so sad, Fitz. He was like a child at times, and he was so lonely, and afraid, and angry. I was given the opportunity to use the wood from his beard to recarve his face. He asked me to give him the face of someone I could love." She continued carving. It was amazing to watch a rough shape emerge from what had once been ordinary wood. " And so I did. I carved your face onto his figurehead... I even gave him a battle axe." She chuckled, " I didn't think that he would actually be able to wield it, but he did."

" The dream I had, when I had saved you from that man. You said it was on the deck of a ship."

" The Paragon, yes."

" So you sailed?"

" Yes, for a time. I was the ship's carpenter."

Never had I been able to get so many answers out of the Fool. I was almost afraid to push my luck, but I did anyway. " That must have been interesting. What made you decide to do that?"

" It is a long tale. It would take a very long time to tell it all."

" Tell it to me." 

The Fool took a sip of tea, " Very well. I can see no harm in telling you now... It all began in Bingtown. You may be familiar with the saying that if you can imagine something, you can find it for sale in Bingtown. When I first set eyes on the town, I certainly believed it true. The market place is a constant hive of activity. Merchants and traders sell wares from ports as far as the Spice Isles and farther, bringing goods that would sell for extraordinary prices. Jewelry in every fashion imaginable, paintings and sculptures, exotic foods, and fabrics in every hue. But, the most valuable of all would be found on the Rain Wild street. As I've just told you, only a liveship can travel up the Rain Wild River. Its acid waters would devour the hull of any ordinary ship, and the inhabitants of the Rain Wild cities made contracts, generations long, with the owners of liveships. These were the Bingtown Traders, who made up the major political force in Bingtown. They would travel up the mysterious river and bring back treasures beyond imagining! Jewels that smelled of perfume and never lost their scent, others that lit up like stars at any motion, fabrics that were as strong as armor but softer and more thin than silk, and more. It took some time, but as Amber, I was able to buy a shop on Rain Wild Street and make my living by carving and selling wooden beads.

Jewels and exotic foods were not the only trade goods passing through Bingtown, however. A far darker force was setting roots in Bingtown soil. Slaves. Much to the displeasure of many Bingtown Traders, the Satrap had begun selling grants of land to Jamailian newcomers, and many of these New Traders trafficked in humans. The custom had spread from Chalced to Jamailia, you see, and in Bingtown, though slavery was illegal, many began using slaves to work their fields and orchards, driving the price of goods down and forcing the others to either adapt to their way of doing business or to lose their land and fortunes." 

I was absorbed in the tale. I had been to Bingtown, once, very briefly. The Fool's eloquent words conjured up images in my mind of that colorful place. Admittedly, I had not liked it, but the words wrapped around and through my imagination.

The Fool continued on, his words rising and falling in the cadence of the story teller, " Such a choice had come upon one family, the Vestrits. The head of the household had passed away and with his passing, the liveship Vivacia quickened. She came to life. Unfortunately, she was passed not into the hands of the daughter, Althea, who had been groomed to one day become captain, but unto Keffria, the eldest daughter. She in turn gave control of the ship to Kyle, her husband. Kyle was a man, as I understand it, who did not understand the nature of a liveship. He sought to restore the family fortunes by turning her into a slaver…"

And so the Fool's tale continued, long into the night and into the small hours of the morning. In those hours I forgot any issue of man or woman, and was carried by the Fool's cleverly crafted words, across foreign waters filled with treacherous storms, sea-serpents, pirates, ships that came alive, and in the sky, a dragon. 


	4. Burrich

Chapter 4

We stayed up until the early hours of the morning, the Fool and I. It felt like coming home, to sit with my friend again and hear tales of seemingly impossible things. It was something, I noticed, that must be a part of her personality naturally. The Fool had always had a way with words, and Lord Golden took a keen pleasure in telling tales so artfully spoken that none would dare interrupt to question even the most outrageous exaggeration. From what I gathered from her story, Amber had told stories to the liveship, Paragon, as well. 

So it was that the pre-dawn light found me still sitting in my chair, nearly dosing off. I looked at the woman across from me. The table between the Fool and I was strewn with the evidence of many cups of tea, a snack of fruit pilfered from the kitchen stores, and piles of wood shavings of various sizes. Despite the Fool's insistance that she would only show it to me when it was complete, in her lap I could see Thick's whistle taking shape. The Fool had fallen asleep curled in her chair. I rose, after taking a few moments to work up the motivation, and crossed to my small room. I pulled the coarse blanket from my bed and then quietly made my way back to drape it over her form. I had no doubt that Lord Golden's blankets would be more comfortable, but I had vowed to be more considerate of the Fool's privacy. The Fool took a deep breath and sighed, snuggling deeper into the blanket. I stood there, for a moment, then turned and went back into my chamber.

It was nearly dawn, and I debated going up to the Skill tower to take my errant student into hand, but I was far too tired and the night had been too pleasant to spoil it with quarreling. With a sigh I changed into my nightshirt and lay down to steal a few hours of sleep.

When I awoke, I had posession of my blanket again and the Fool was gently shaking my shoulder. It surprised me that I had slept soundly enough not to notice her entry, but then the Fool had always been the only one able to surprise me. " Fitz.." She spoke my name softly as she noticed me awaken, " There is a message for you. I think that it's urgent." 

In her hand, she held a small scroll sealed with a drop of red wax and marked with my charging buck. I took it from her and broke the seal, sitting up to read the message. It was written on a smaller piece of parchment folded inside the first. The Fool watched, an expression of concern on her face as I felt the color drain from mine. " I have to go." I thrust the message aside, trusting the Fool to dispose of it for me, and hurried to change out of my nightshirt. I paid no attention to the company or to which clothes I threw on.

" What's wrong?" 

" It's a summons." I answered, " Burrich's son is here, and Chade thinks that Burrich might be coming to the castle to fetch him back." I was already triggering the entrance to the spy corridors. 

" Are you going to see him?" The Fool asked my back as I took and lit a taper then stepped into the narrow passageway. 

I called my answer back over my shoulder as I began to run, " I don't know!" 

Despite my hurried pace, it took me some time and two wrong turns to reach my destination: a peephole into the Queen's private audience chamber. I stilled my panting breath and sat, pressing my eye to the small hole. I was late. Queen Kettricken herself and her Councilor gave audience to a small boy of perhaps ten years. He had dark curly hair and the long-limbed, gangly look of a boy just beginning the transition to man. I instantly recognized Burrich's son and saw Molly in his lashes and cheek bones. He appeared to have recently arrived, for the mud was not yet dried to his cloak and melting snow was beginning to form puddles beneath his shoes. 

The boy had the wit. He had run away from home and begged refuge from the queen because he could no longer stand to live in his father's house. Swift he was called. My mind reeled. Swift, who had a twin called Nimble. Burrich's boy, and Molly's. I recalled my days in the stables with Burrich and could understand how a boy could feel oppressed under his rule, but to the extent of running away? Perhaps the boy did not fear his father's wrath as I once had, I thought, or perhaps the combination of his mother's and father's strong wills in him had caused this. 

Just when my mind had begun to recover from seeing the physical evidence of Burrich and Molly's love, Burrich himself was admitted into the room. I stared. The man was as dark and as formidable as ever, scowling and glowering into the room. He did not give any thought to the sentry at the door. Despite all of this, the years had left their mark on him. I could see it in the lines of his face, and the way it pained him to kneel before Kettricken. Nevertheless, he refused to be seated and stood formally before the Queen and her Councilor, demanding that his boy be returned to him. I had to admire the boy's foolish courage in standing up to his father. I had thought that Burrich would give him a cuff on the head, when the Queen diffused the situation by sending Swift from the room with the promise of food and warmth in the kitchens.

Burrich was finally seated at the Queen's firm request. In the conversation that followed, I learned much of how my supposed death had affected him and his opinion of the wit. He believed that the use of the wit had killed one boy in his charge, and he was determined that it would not ruin another. My heart sank as I thought of how far reaching my boyhood actions had been. I had thought that I had been doing Burrich a mercy by concealing the fact that I still lived, so the depth of grief in the man's voice when he spoke of me and the promise that he had made my father surprised and filled me with guilt. When he found the body of the forged one that wore my shirt, he believed that I had died as something worse than a beast; had lived as less than an animal until I was killed by a pack of forged ones.

Burrich was sent from the room to join his son, and I sat, concealed in the wall, my hand clasped tightly over my mouth and nose as I choked on my tears and fought to remain silent. I had not thought what the assumption of my death would cost him, nor had I considered the guilt that would burden him for years afterwards. I knew why Chade had summoned me here, but if I revealed myself to Burrich, it would only damage the bond that he shared with Molly. Wouldn't it? Did I attach too much importance to myself? No, I knew that Burrich was a man of honour. He would feel that he had done me a wrong by stealing Molly away from me. Molly had already left me though, to give birth to our daughter alone. My thoughts were cut short as Chade's voice reached me at my spy position. He gave the choice to me. Send a message with Lord Golden if I wished Burrich to come back to the audience chamber. If I wished to reveal myself and end his gult and possibly end his happiness with Molly as well.

I sat in silence for a time, I know not how long, with the spiders in their webs for my company as I pondered what to do. My candle had begun to gutter out when I finally rose, stirring up dust in the narrow space. I took one step, and then another. I felt as though I waded through deep water as I made my way back to Lord Golden's chamber, and I wondered if this was what the Fool meant when he spoke of battling against fate. Dimly I was aware of myself as I triggered the entrance to my room.

When I entered the main chamber, the Fool was waiting for me, seated at his writing desk. He came to his feet when I entered, his eyes flitting over my person as though checking for injuries. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. " Fool. What right do I have to decide whether a man lives the rest of his years in guilt and shame, or instead loses the happiness that he has found?" 

The Fool weighed his words carefully and it was a moment before he spoke. He stepped lightly over to me and placed a hand on my arm as a show of support. " You are the catalyst, FitzChivalry Farseer. Your very existance is like a pebble dropping into a still pond, sending ripples in every direction. Every decision that you make is like a step on thin ice. A thousand possibilities are opened like cracks in time. Each of those cracks is a pathway and each pathway weaves in and out of other pathways." The Fool's gaze grew distant as he spoke on. " All is change around you, catalyst. Everything is changing." He drew in a sharp breath and then came back to himself and shook his head. " I'm sorry, Fitz. Too much is changing for me to see clearly. Some Prophet I am. " He smiled ruefully. " What use is a White Prophet that cannot see to guide her catalyst? The best that I can tell you is to follow your heart. You have always made decisions rashly and it has always worked out in the end."

I stared down into her eyes for some moments. They seemed to shine like polished gold, but with a light from within. " I need Lord Golden to send a letter." 

" And you need to change your clothes." 

The Fool smiled at me.

I looked down at myself to find that I had, in my haste, donned the yellow leggings that I so despised. They looked rediculous with the beribboned yellow shirt. I felt like a canary. "Right." I agreed, and hastened into my little room once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to do the next chapter well, and so I will be taking my time with it. Comments are welcome, so don't be shy.


	5. Sons and Daughters

Chapter 5

I waited anxiously behind the secret entrance. Should I go in now and be waiting for Burrich when he returned? Should I wait until he arrived and then walk in, just incase he didn't enter alone? Others might wonder why Lord Golden's serving man lingered in the Queen's private audience chamber. What was I thinking? Was this really a good idea? It wasn't too late to turn back, return to my little cupboard of a room and pretend that none of this ever happened. But suddenly, it was too late, because as I saw Burrich limp into the room, I knew that I couldn't force the man to continue bearing the grief and guilt that had stooped his shoulders and lined his face. The discovery of his son's wit must have weighed heavily on him. I took a deep breath.

Burrich was seated in a chair that was mercilessly turned to face in my direction. He shifted and looked about the room suspiciously, no doubt wondering what more words the Queen would have for the former Stablemaster. I could tell that he had resolved to bring his son home, and that nothing short of a royal command would change his mind. His expression was set in a scowl and he seemed anxious to leave. I acted before I could give myself a chance to change my mind. Quietly, I triggered the catch that would open the door in the passage way. Burrich's eyes caught the motion, for they turned in my direction, and I saw something that made my heart clench. The beginnings of cataracts were forming in the old stablemaster's eyes, fogging them. I stepped into the room, letting the pannel fall shut behind me. Burrich's eyes traveled over my servant's attire and then settled on my face. I could see the surprise and then skepticism settle on his features as he doubted his own sight. 

" Burrich." I spoke. 

He stared. I watched the realization dawn on him. He looked as though he had seen a ghost, and in a way, I suppose he had. He came to his feet so suddenly that he nearly fell with the pain in his bad leg, but he recovered and crossed to me in three long strides. I was certain that he would strike me, but then he enfolded me in his embrace. His scent nearly overwhelmed me and I breathed it in as though I could fill myself with the memories it brought of my childhood and safety and love. It felt as though his grip would crush my ribs and I was glad to see that age had not diminished him as badly as I had feared. " Fitz, my boy. Is it really you?"

" It's me, Burrich." I answered, and was surprised to hear my voice thick with tears, " I'm sorry."

" Fitz, Fitz, I thought you were dead." He released me from his bear hug to hold me at arms length, still unwilling to let go of me completely. " But you're alive." He felt my arms and looked me over as though I were one of his horses. My throat tightened to behold his clouded eyes. A dark look crossed his face, " It was that Chade, wasn't it? I should have never have let him have you. I should have fought him. To think what he's made of you, living in the shadows, full of death and intrigue. I should never have let him take you from the stables. You were mine. You are mine."

I had to shake my head, " Burrich, I'm sorry. It is not Chade's fault. He was the one who informed me of your coming here. The body that you found, it was a forged one that had stolen my shirt." I explained.

" I buried that body. I thought it was you. We mourned you." Burrich's voice went soft and he returned to his seat, sitting heavily, his bad leg extended infront of him. " All these years. Why did you not tell me? If you couldn't have come, even a letter, anything.. Do you have any idea..." His voice trailed off, but the depth of emotion in his deep voice conveyed all that he wished to say. His expression darkened as anger set in. 

" I'm sorry, Burrich, " I apologized yet again, " it is a long tale..."

" Fifteen damn years, that's how long it is." Burrich growled. 

I bowed my head to his rebuke and sat down on the ground before him as if I were a lad again, " I know. I know, and believe me, I had every intention of returning. Every night I would tell myself that I would come home soon and that everything would be right again. That I would make things work some how. It was the only thought to keep me sane in those days, I think. I was so determined to get back to Buckkeep and to Molly, but I... I got upset and I put those feelings into Girl on a Dragon and when it was over, suddenly I didn't..." My broken explanation trailed off as I thought back to that time. I would have done anything to return to Molly and my daughter, to build a life for us. But then one night, I had a Skill dream in which I saw the love that had grown between Burrich and Molly. Burrich had proposed marrying Molly as a way to keep Nettle safe and had admitted to loving her. He had been incredulous when Molly had reciprocated his feelings, and they had consummated their love that night, so that they might stand before the Witness Stones and say that they had been together before marriage and none would question that Nettle was Burrich's daughter. The memory was not so painful now as it had once been. I wondered if time or Girl on a Dragon had dulled its sting.

" Boy, " Burrich interrupted my thoughts, " You're starting your tale in the middle and it's making you sound like a fool. Have you forgotten how to report properly?" Despite his gruff tone, I could tell that he was as plagued by a myriad of emotion as I was.

" I will report in full." I cast a glance towards the spy post I had occupied not long before. " But let us speak elsewhere." I rose. 

Burrich came laboriously to his feet again, and I felt guilty at having made him rise once more. " You're dressed like a servant." He observed. 

" I am. I go by the name Tom Badgerlock now. I am servingman to Lord Golden." 

" Horse dung." Burrich followed me to the door, " I've heard tales of that man, and you wouldn't last a day following the orders of that arrogant fop. You're too stubborn and hot headed." 

I fought to keep from smiling, " It's true, Burrich." 

I led him to Lord Golden's chambers, not by Chade's spy passages, but by the main corridors of the keep. To any passing by, it seemed as though I was merely another servant, leading the Queen's guest. It was indiscreet, but so would have been taking him through the spy passages, and this route would be easier on his bad leg. We came to a halt outside the door, with Burrich scowling with ill concealed impatience. I tapped on the door and entered. 

The Fool came to her feet immediately, from where she had been ensconed in her chair. She looked about to say something, when she saw Burrich enter the room behind me. " Badgerlock, it's about time. And you've forgotten my breakfast. Who is this?" She fell seemlessly back into her role as Lord Golden, arching a brow and regarding Burrich calmly. 

Burrich looked from Lord Golden to me and back again.

" An old friend. Pardon my lateness, master. I'll see to your breakfast shortly," I demured.

" Don't bother, you hopeless imbicile." Lord Golden regarded me with an impressive look of distain, clearly dismissing Burrich as beneath his notice. " I will fetch it myself. You clearly cannot be trusted to remember even the most simple of tasks. Good day to you." With that he strode from the room, looking every bit the irritated nobleman.

I smiled, sheepishly, at Burrich. " Sit down."

Burrich came deeper into the room with all the caution of a wolf, and sat down in the Fool's recently vacated seat " Wh- No. Never mind. I'm sure you'll get to that soon enough. Right now, I want an explanation as to why you never saw fit to let me know that you were still alive in the last 15 years. Did you spare any thought at all to those you left behind?" 

"I'm sorry, Burrich. Like I said, I had every intention of returning, but when I found out that you and Molly were to be wed... I made excuses. I told myself that my return would only destroy what happiness you had found in eachother. I had nothing. I could not return as FitzChivalry, the Witted Bastard returned from the grave. I loved Molly, I still do, but she did not need me. She never had."

"So, you knew." 

" Yes." Memories of my Skill dreams spent watching Molly, Burrich, and eventually my little girl, Nettle, rose to the forefront of my mind once more. A whirlpool of feelings were associated with them, but at its core was an emptiness that made my voice come out flat. 

"But that's no excuse." Burrich said, firmly, " If I had known, I never would have... Even then, you could still have come home to us." 

" I know that you love her, Burrich. I could see you, with the Skill. I think that Nettle was my focus, even then. I did not intentionally spy on you," I hastened to clarify, "it would happen in my dreams. I saw you together, and I knew that you had finally found a life of your own." 

" So you just gave up?" Burrich sounded accusing. 

" I ... I was angry at first, I remember. I felt betrayed. It's not important now, Burrich. I cannot change the past." I was uncomfortable confronting these feelings, long burried. 

" Fitz," Burrich's deep voice was soft, but it commanded attention, " I am trying to understand why the boy that I raised for a decade didn't see fit to let me know that he was alive. I am damn sure that there must be a reason, because no son of mine would abandon his daughter and cause that kind of hurt to the people who love him without a damn good reason." 

" I'm sorry." 

" You had better be, but I'm not asking for your apology. I'm asking you to tell me why." 

I took a deep breath and launched into my tale, beginning at the time that Burrich and I had parted ways, and sparing no details. I reported to Burrich as I had when I was a stableboy and took some comfort in that as I relived all of the memories that I had tried to leave behind me. The light changed as the day wore on, and I saw my shadow stretch infront of me like a ghost from the past.

I reported for hours. Burrich's eyebrows rose when I told him of my quest to assassinate Regal, and I suspected that he disapproved, though he said nothing. I told him of the skill command that Verity imprinted on my mind, and how I had tried to turn back to Buckkeep but could not. I told him of my journey into the Mountain Kingdom, of the smugglers, of taking an arrow to the back, and of my reunion with the Fool. I recounted the days spent with Kettricken, Kettle, Starling, the Fool, and Nighteyes walking the Elderling road and of finally finding the wasted shell that was Verity. I told him of my Skill dreams, and of putting the memories into Girl on a Dragon. I told him how the Skill tugged at me with its alure, and how Verity had prevented me from giving all of myself to the dragon. I neglected to mention how Verity had borrowed my body to get himself an heir. Some things were best left unspoken. My tale finally wound down as I described waking the dragons and their flight to rid our shores of Red Ships. 

" After that... I thought about going home, but it seemed like it would do more harm than good. I traveled for a bit with Nighteyes and finally settled down in an abandoned cottage... We made it our home. One day, years ago, Starling brought a boy by, Hap, and I took him in. He's a good lad. He's apprenticed to Gindast the woodworker now..."

" And how did you end up back in Buckkeep castle dressed as a servant?" 

" Another long tale, one I probably shouldn't tell. Chade requred my assistance in... recovering something valuable." 

" I see. And that's it. Even then you spared no thought for those who still believed you dead." 

" It wasn't an easy decision for me, Burrich." I defended myself. 

" Nor was it easy for any of those you left behind. Did you even consider what it would do to Molly to go on believing you dead?" 

" She seems to have gotten over it." I allowed myself a little bitterness. 

" Fitz, you stupid boy. We love eachother, Molly and I. But there has always been a place in her heart for you." Burrich paused. " If you wanted to come home, reclaim the life you lost, well. I wouldn't give her up without a fight, not now. But I know that she still loves you." 

I froze. Go back? Reclaim Molly for my own, be a father to Nettle. Could I do that? 

Burrich spoke slowly, " Now that you've come back... Are you going to take them from me?"

How could I answer when I had only just realized that I could? " Burrich. I love Molly, but... Compared to what you have now, how could I compare? I didn't want to believe the words at the time, but someone wise once told me that what Molly and I were in love with was not truly eachother, but a time in our lives. Molly did love the clumsy boy who shared a childhood with her, but she left to raise Nettle alone. I wasn't what she needed. I'm not sure that I am now either." 

" I was the better man for her." Burrich said the words matter-of-factly, but they still cut into my soul like daggers. " But she still loved you." 

I choked the words out and it was like swallowing poison. It was one thing to have accepted my dream of a life with Molly as forever out of my reach; it was another to deny it when it was finally possible. " I won't- " I swallowed. " I won't take her from you, Burrich. I won't take any of them. You have been husband to Molly and father to Nettle for so long. There's no room there for me anymore."

Burrich looked relieved, and a tension that I had not been aware of him carrying seemed to leave him. No doubt he had feared that his happiness would be snatched from him the moment he recognized my face. I was ashamed that I had considered it, but yet devastated to have lost that happiness for myself. " You could still come home. Leave here with Swift and I." 

I shook my head immediately, " I am not that strong, Burrich." 

He nodded his understanding.

" About Nettle, " I blurted, " Please don't say anything." 

" I never have." Burrich said, slowly, " But now that you're alive, it seems wrong to deny her the knowledge of who her father is." 

" You have been father to her, Burrich. Just as you have been father to me." 

I was surprised to see tears well in the old Stablemaster's eyes. " She's a good girl. Fiesty like her mother and as hard headed as you." 

" I know. " I said, and then had to explain, " Nettle has the Skill. It was through her that I was able to focus my Skill onto you and Molly. I have met her several times, though only in dreams. I never told her who I was." 

" Nettle. She has the Skill?" Burrich was dumbfounded. 

" Yes, " I answered, " And she's very strong in the art of manipulating dreams, it would seem. The Queen has suggested that she be brought here to be trained, but I have asked that she be allowed to remain as she is." 

" The Skill is a dangerous magic. I do not know much of it, but I did learn a thing or two as king's man to Chivalry. I know that it is addictive, that it can eat at a man and if he ever gives in to it he can be left as nothing more than a simpleton. Is my girl in any danger?" Burrich met my eyes levely. I had to answer honestly. 

" There is risk... She does not know that it is the Skill she wields. To her, it is simply something that she has always done." 

Burrich sighed, heavily. " I need a drink. This is all too much for one day." I had to agree. I rose and found the Fool's stash of apricot brandy. I poured a cup for each of us. Burrich took a sip then looked at the glass in surprise, " This is good. Your master won't be upset with you for stealing his good spirits?" 

" I don't think it likely." 

" Well don't worry, the secret is safe with me." Burrich promised, and I wondered if he spoke of the brandy or something else. A few moments passed in silence, as we became absorbed in our own thoughts. Burrich broke the silence. " Damn... How am I going to tell Molly?" Not telling her had apparently never even occurred to the ever honourable man. Burrich took a practiced gulp of the brandy. 

" Well, for a start, don't tell her that you've been drinking." I smiled, though my heart ached.

Burrich snorted, " Can't hide a swallow of anything from that woman." I could hear grudging admiration in his voice. He drank some more of his brandy. Neither of us could think of anything to say for several moments, then Burrich spoke again. " Speaking of Molly, I told her I would fetch Swift back as soon as I could. 

" I see." I was reluctant to see him go, yet glad that there would be no more talk of uncomfortable subjects tonight.

" You could still come with us, you know?" Burrich offered, coming awkwardly to his feet. 

" Thank you, Burrich, but I can't." I stood as well, to see him out. 

Burrich gave a stiff nod, then captured me in another hug, " It's good that you're alive, Fitz."

I felt tears prick at my eyes again, and I fought them down. " I've missed you." 

Burrich held me in his embrace a moment longer, then released me to limp to the door. " Take care of yourself, Fitz. Won't have you snatched away from me again, for good." 

" Yes, sir." 

And so, Burrich left to collect his son, and I sank wearily back into my seat, my mind and my heart in turmoil. I hoped that Burrich would not be so hard on the boy, knowing that I had not perished as a beast-man. Then at least some good would have come of this. I could not yet decide if I had done Burrich a hardship or a favour.

Lord Golden returned to his chambers hours or minutes later. By the darkening of the room, I supposed it must have been hours. I had neglected to build up the fire or light any tapers. I waited for questions or perhaps some comforting words from the Fool, but as he always did, he knew when silence helped more than words ever could. He disappeared into his bedchamber for a time and emerged in his night robe. He surveyed the room with his bright amber gaze, then stopped by the table to refill my glass with brandy. The Fool took the seat opposite me once more, and began quietly to work on her carving. After some time, I spoke.

" Did I make the right, decision, Fool?" 

The Fool looked up at me, appearing otherworldly in the half light of the room. " Every decision that you make sets time in motion, Fitz. Things are changing. The events of today will impact the course we must take to set the world on a better path. It remains to be seen how large an influence the decision of today has had. There are some key points in time that are clear to me, that I know, but others are more elusive." 

" I mean." I corrected, voice tight, " Do you think that we will be happy?" 

The Fool looked inexplicably sad, " I can see a happy future for you, FitzChivalry Farseer. And I will do everything in my power to make it a reality." 

" And Burrich?" 

The Fool's gaze went distant as she followed some thread in the tapestry of time, " Burrich... He'll be cold and wet and Swift isn't pleased to go home. Molly is waiting. He gets drunk for a time and Molly gets angry. Burrich is angry too. But he's happy. Sad, too. So many feelings. Is that what it's like being human?" The Fool trailed off. 

" That isn't what I meant." I was suddenly frustrated, and it showed, " Do he and Molly stay happy together? " 

The Fool's voice had a dream-like quality as she delivered the news that would both comfort and devastate me, " Until the end of their days."

After that, we sat in silence for a time and I soon left the Fool to her carving. Perhaps sensing that I was lost in my own thoughts, she said nothing as I retreated to my bedchamber. I was exhausted after so little sleep the night before, but rather than finding the true rest that I craved, each time I reached for sleep, I heard Nettle weeping outside of my Skill walls. She no longer battered them or demanded entry; she simply wept, and the depth of her sorrow was surprising in one so young. It pulled at my heart and I lowered my walls, cautiously. 

_Why do you weep, my dear?_

_Shadow Wolf!_ My daughter exclaimed. _Oh, Shadow Wolf, it's awful! My brother Swift has vanished and nobody knew what to do! But then papa heard in town that Swift was asking for directions to Buckkeep Castle! He was furious and he rode off to try to find him and now they're both gone and Nim thinks that it's all his fault! Mama is worried sick and all she does is either weep or yell at us. She says that Buckkeep is an awful, dangerous place for Swift but she never tells me why. She doesn't even seem to see me some times, when I'm talking to her! She just looks sad and then sends me away. Shadow Wolf, I don't know what to do! What if my papa and brother are dead?_

Nettle's words came in a torrent, and I felt her anxiety as a wave washing over me. _You can let go of your worry, both your father and brother are safe and on their way back to you._ I attempted to reassure her.

I sensed her surge of hope and then suspicion. _But how do you know?_

_I saw them together. Your father is bringing Swift home safely._ I sent with my words my certainty that all would be well and a suggestion of peace. 

For a moment, my image of Nettle dissolved into her relief and gratitude. It felt good to have eased her worry. Then she asked me, _But how did you know them, Shadow Wolf? Do you know my father and brother? ___

Unspoken was the question of if I knew her. I answered as truthfully as I could. _I knew your father before you were born. I recognized Swift by his resemblance to Burrich._

_You're that old?_ Shock and oddly, disappointment. 

_I'm not_ that _old._ I protested.

_Oh... But you're older than I imagined you would be._

_How old did you think I was?_

_I thought you would be closer to my age. Though I suppose that you could be, if you were a child when you knew papa. How old are you?_ My daughter was blunt. 

_Old enough to expect better manners in a girl!_ I chided, teasingly, but avoided answering. 

Nettle was unrepentant and not to be distracted, _You are my friend. I do not need to be formal with you. Now answer the question!_

_Close to fourty._ I admitted, surprised at my own self-consciousness. 

_You're ancient!_ Nettle exclaimed, with a fine disregard for my feelings. She went a way to ammend this though as she carried on, _I'm sorry, Shadow Wolf! I had just... Well, I'm a little disappointed. I thought that you might be my age or a few years older and that, well, that you might find me pretty..._ I sensed her embarrassment at this confession. 

_I think that you're very pretty._ At her surprise and discomfort, I hastened to clarify, _I mean, not that way. I think of you like a daughter._ Now I was embarrassed, and telling Nettle that I thought of her as a daughter only prodded at the wound in my heart that came from the knowledge that I could never truly have the role of father in her life.

Nettle must have sensed my pain and misinterpreted the cause, because she tried to reassure me. _Fourty is not so very old. I'm sorry, Shadow Wolf, I did not mean to upset you so._

_It's alright, you didn't upset me. Now get some sleep. Everything will be fine._ I sent her a gentle Skill suggestion that would ease her way into a true sleep and my Skill sense of her faded as she drifted off into her own dreams.

It would have been nice to be able to send myself to sleep like that, I thought, bitterly, as I opened my eyes to the darkness of my room. I was hungry and I felt the beginnings of a Skill headache coming on. I groaned and sat up, shuffling to the door to trigger the entrance to the spy passageway when suddenly a blast of Skill such as I had never before experienced engulfed me. _**You dream loudly, for a mere human, little man. Your presence is an annoyance, but I am curious. Who are you and what do you mean to me?**_

As quickly as the Skill wave hit me, it retreated, and I fell to my knees in its wake, shuddering and retching. What in Eda's name was that? Sweat dripped from my brow and I allowed myself to collapse sideways to the floor as pain seared through my skull. The world rocked under me and unconsciousness came with merciful speed. 


	6. Reconciliations

Chapter 6

Morning found me still on the floor of my servant's chamber. I groaned as I came to wakefulness and pushed myself to my knees. What had happened last night? The blast of Skill had been so immense and so foreign that it could not have possibly been caused by anything human. I stumbled, clumsy as a newborn fawn, to my feet and sat on the edge of my bed where I remained for some moments, collecting myself. When I was sure that I would not pass out, I changed my clothes and emerged into the morning light and Lord Golden's sitting room.

I was greeted by the sight of the table, laden with covered dishes, and Lord Golden throned in his cushioned chair. A serving boy was just scuttling from the room. 

" Ah, Badgerlock. Finally." Lord Golden regarded me cooly, " I had begun to think you'd perished."

" My apologies." The door shut and I crossed the room to bar it before taking my seat at the table.

The Fool stood and reached over to touch my face, looking into my eyes, worriedly, " Are you alright?" She was asking about both my physical state and my mental state after having revealed my continued existance to Burrich. 

" I'm fine, " I answered, and realizing how unconvincing that was, decided for the truth, " Last night I had a Skill conversation with Nettle and there was this huge burst of the Skill. It knocked me senseless and I suppose I'm still recovering. I'll be alright."

The Fool frowned in concern, but retreated and took her seat across from me. " How strange."

" It was." I agreed, and watched as the Fool began uncovering the dishes of food, " The entire keep must wonder at the suppleness of your waist when you have a breakfast like this delivered every morning." 

A small smile, " Ah, but keeping people wondering only adds to my alure." The Fool served us both and then poured the tea.

My stomach was still in knots, but after a few bites of food, my earlier hunger returned in earnest. I spoke between mouthfuls, " You've already made admirers out of half the court."

" Only half? " The Fool's eyes widened in mock dismay, " I shall have to work harder. What do you think, shall I cause a scandal by asking our friend, young Lord Civil Bresigna to run away with me back to Jamailia?"

I scoffed a laugh, " The poor lad is already thoroughly traumatized." 

"Mmm.. True enough." The Fool nodded, thoughtfully. She picked up a small lace rose from her tray and turned it in her fingers before securing it to Lord Golden's coat. " I think that I will buy Garetha a nice little cottage in the countryside. Let people wonder about that." 

I frowned, " Is it not unkind to allow her to continue in her infatuation with you?" 

The Fool shook her head, sadly, " There are many types of love, and indeed some could be dissuaded by rejection or by time, but she is one who has been able to see past all of my deceptions and was able to see the Fool in Lord Golden's skin. Even the Fool she knew more deeply than many others, though I never said more than a word to her." 

I could not say why I was hurt by her words until I recalled our argument, many days ago now, when the Fool had said that I did not know her as well as she had thought I did. That in turn brought back the old hurt I felt at being deceived for so long. " Perhaps if you were honest, more people would know you, " I suggested. 

" Fitz, " she frowned, prettily, " Do not be so bitter. I said more deeply than many others, but you have seen more of me than _any_ other, save perhaps my parents. Quite literally, actually." She attempted a jest. 

But not known. I nodded, once, unwilling to start another quarrel over breakfast, but suddenly feeling uncomfortably aware of how little I still knew about the Fool. " Do you have any plans for today?" 

The Fool hummed, thoughtfully, and took a bite of her fresh fruit in cream. When she finished, she answered, " I am planning to pen some letters, and perhaps see who I can coax into supporting Bingtown's side of the war with Chalced. It should not be too hard, considering the emnity that the people of Shoaks and Farrow feel towards the Chalcedeans. Still, it cannot hurt to let Lord Golden's opinion be known about the keep." 

" Why does Tintaglia not ask the Rain Wilders to care for the young dragons? It seems to me that a dragon actively fighting on their side would turn things in Bingtown's favor. They could devote their efforts to the dragons and she could clear the coasts." A strange shiver went up my spine at the mention of the dragon's name.

" Dragons are a dragon's business, or so I think she would see it. As I mentioned before, she has demanded that the Rain Wilders assist her in the feeding of the young dragons. Their resources are strained as it is, though." The Fool pushed her spoon about her bowl of fruit, " I mentioned too that I thought I had made a mistake in Bingtown. I am worried that all I do now is distorted around the shape of what I have brought into being by my choices then. Was any of this meant to be as it is today? Did I somehow alter time in a way that will damage what I have tried to achieve for the future?" 

" That sounds like something that everyone worries about, Fool." I tried to sound comforting, " And I think that everyone looks back on something and wishes that they had done it differently. What matters is what we do now." 

The Fool's expression broke into a smile that took my breath away, " Yes. Yes, that is exactly so, Fitz. As ever, when I find myself lost and unsure of my vision you speak with the Catalyst's tongue and give me confidence that time is indeed on the proper path." 

After breakfast, I was dismissed for the day and my time was my own. I chose to use the opportunity to go down to Buckkeep town to see Hap. Though he had most likely already started his work for the day, perhaps I could beg a few minutes of my son's time from his master. I hoped he had taken my suggestion and moved into the apprentice's quarters, and I felt ashamed that I had so neglected my son that I did not even know for certain where he slept at night. On top of my shame, speaking with Burrich the day before had woken in me a feeling of homesickness for a home that was distant not in miles but in time. I longed for a past that I could not return to and a future that I could never have. I worried for some moments over what Burrich would say to Molly, but soon dismissed it. What would happen now was out of my control. I felt a strange lightening of spirit at that realization. I no longer had to agonize over telling or not telling Molly and Burrich that I still lived because the decision had already been made. Spine straight and eyes ahead, I made my way to town, determined to make things right with my son. 

As it happened, I was only able to speak with Hap for a few moments. He had indeed moved in to the apprentice's quaters, and in a hushed voice he complained to me of how the candles were rationed and the extra chores. However, he had just yesterday been entrusted with the task of picking up some brass fittings from smith street and completed it successfully. He beamed with pride at this show of trust from his master. I smiled on him and was glad that he was finally settling into his apprentiship. When I asked about Svanja, however, he made his promises to meet with me when next he had an evening free and hastened back to his work. I shook my head and hoped that my boy was taking things more slowly with his sweetheart. No good would come from building their relationship on clandestine meetings and more bedding than talk. I winced privately and thought of my own secret visits to Molly's chambers. Better the boy take things slowly. 

I wandered the market aimlessly after my brief meeting with Hap. I supposed I could go see Jinna. We had returned to a state of friendship, but I wondered if she would be angry with me for going so long without calling. It would not be made any better by continuing to put it off, I reasoned with myself, and with that logic I made my way to Jinna's shop and rapped on the door. Fennel was the first to greet me, winding his way around my feet as he, too, came to be let inside. _Did you bring me any fish?_

_Sorry, Fennel. I didn't think to bring any._

_Stupid human. You should never forget the fish. _Fennel darted inside as first the top and then the bottom halves of the door were opened. Jinna smiled.__

"Badgerlock. Do come in out of the cold!" She ushered me inside. She had greeted me courteously, but it was not the effusive welcome that I was accustomed to receiving from her. I supposed that my last clumsy attempt at an apology had not fully redeemed me in her eyes. 

" Thank you." I shook the snow from my boots and came inside. She shut the door behind me and Fennel endeavoured to trip me as he wound around my legs once more. 

_Pick up the cat!_

" Oh, Fennel, you naughty thing! Leave the poor man alone!" Jinna scolded and scooped Fennel up before depositing him into her chair. Fennel shot me a smug look, which I ignored.

" I'm sorry for calling on you out of the blue like this. I had come to see how Hap was getting on and I thought that I would say hello." 

" Well, hello, Tom Badgerlock." Jinna smiled, " Was that all you were wanting?" 

" Er, well, no. I thought, if you weren't too busy, we could catch up?" 

Jinna laughed at my awkwardness, " Come and sit down by the fire, you silly man. I'm still upset with you, but I've thought it over and I know it was all a misunderstanding. I'll make us some tea." 

I was seated as she began the routine. Fennel abandoned the chair that he had been curled on in favor of my lap. I petted him absently as I watched her. It was nice, to be welcome in a place and to be a part of such a domestic scene. A smiling woman and a warm hearth. It was all I'd wanted for years. My heart ached for possibilities, lost forever. Jinna glanced at me once and did a double take. She put a hand to her chest, " Why Tom, if you look at me with eyes like that I might just melt. What's happened to make you look so much like a lost kitten?" She was seated in her chair facing mine as she waited for the water to boil.

" I don't look like a kitten." 

" You most certainly do. Tell me?" 

" I was just thinking about how nice it was to was to see you again." 

" Oh, Tom." She patted my hand fondly, in a friendly way. " You're always welcome to come by any time. It has been ages since I've last seen you! I imagine that life up at the keep has been keeping you busy. How was Hap when you saw him?" 

" Busy." I replied, " Gindast has started trusting him with more responsibilities now. I think he's finally getitng used to it." 

" Well, I stand by it. That boy needed someone taking a firm hand with him. He still does." Jinna gave me a look, " You should start now before it's too late. He's still seeing that Svanja, you know, and no good can come of that for either of them." 

" I know. But it seems like he's finally working hard to earn her parent's approval. If he's willing to try, I don't see the harm in it." 

" Hap may be trying to make an honest effort at courtship, Tom, but Svanja most certainly is not. That girl is trouble, and Hap would do well to stay away from her." 

" I'll try to talk to him when I see him next." I aceeded, " He said he would meet up with me the next time he has an evening free." 

" You had better do that." Jinna warned, then changed the subject as she sprinkled tea herbs into the pot, " And how has life at the keep been treating you, Tom?" 

" It's the same as ever. Too much work and too little pay."

Jinna tutted, " That master of yours should loosen his purse strings a bit. He can certainly afford to from what I've heard about his spending habits." 

" Indeed. He is certainly fond of fine things." 

" Oh not only that!" Jinna exclaimed, " From what I've heard he's become quite the stones player. Honestly, that some people have nothing better to do with their money is just astounding." 

I looked about the room, taking note that perhaps being a Hedge Witch was not the most profitable occupation. " Speaking of which, I am not interfering with your business am I?" 

" Business can wait. You only show your face around here once in a blue moon, so I plan on taking advantage of that while I can." She poured tea for both of us as if to prove that I was welcome to stay.

We talked of inconsequential things for a time, and in the afternoon she sent me out to fetch some fresh bread. When I returned with two loaves and a bit of fish for Fennel, a stew was already beginning to cook over the fire. Soon after, we were seated at table and I listened with interest to tales of some of the customers she'd had and shook my head with her over the dramatic nature of children when she told me of a young girl who'd burst into tears after hearing that she would have a long and happy life wed to a smith. Apparently she'd been hoping to catch the eye of a young nobleman. " Love comes in unexpected places and not always where we'd hoped. I'm sure that once she accepts that, she'll be much happier." Jinna prophesized. 

" I'm sure she will." I agreed, feeling a trifle melancholy despite the pleasant atmosphere. It was all just a reminder of things that I would never have. 

" Tom, do recall what I said to you when I read your palm? I said that you have a love that wends its way in and out of your life for all your years and that that faithful heart would soon return. Do not despair, you will find happiness in your life." Jinna must have read the shift in my mood. 

I chuckled, bitterly, " I fear that I've ruined my chance at that, Jinna, but thank you." Molly was out of my reach forever now, I had told Burrich that I would not take her from him and I truly would not. 

" Fate is not so easily denied, Tom Badgerlock. Your love will come back to you." 

" How can you be so sure?" 

" Magic." She answered, plain and simple, " I have never been wrong on a reading." Jinna stood and crossed the table, stepping over Fennel to stand beside me. She put her hand on mine. " Come. I think that I've forgiven you now." 

I hesitated. What sort of an example was I setting for Hap, by doing exactly what I had forbidden him to do? I knew that I did not love Jinna, but it was not as though I was being unfaithful to Molly. She had Burrich and she was happy with him, why should I not find what happiness I could? Perhaps I could even learn to love Jinna and I could have my warm hearth and loving wife and yes, possibly children too. Why did I deny myself that? Perhaps this was not fair to Jinna, but I would honestly try to love her as such a kind hearted woman deserved. I stood and allowed her to lead me into her bed. 

We parted ways some hours later, and I think that I left her satisfied. I promised that I would visit again the next day, and Jinna saw me off with a kiss and a warm embrace. I left feeling hopeful, pleased, and a bit ashamed of myself. 

I was unchallenged at the gates to Buckkeep Castle and though I still did not approve, I supposed that I had become rather well known as Tom Badgerlock by now. I had hoped to find the Fool in her chambers, but when I entered, Lord Golden looked me up and down as though I had been rolling in the muck from the stables and vacated his cushioned chair to stomp off into his bedchamber. I had no idea what I had done to so displease the Fool, but there was nothing I could do about it if she would not talk to me, and so I stalked to my own chamber and shut the door more loudly than was necessary. I recognized that it was childish, but she had started it by storming off like that. So the Fool was angry over something, I would not let that deter my progress in making amends with the people I had neglected. I triggered the hidden entrance and made my way to the Skill Tower via Chade's passageways.

The Tower was dusty, I noted, as I stepped into the room for the first time in days, and I felt a pang of regret that I had put off addressing the situation with Dutiful for so long. It was dinner time and it was likely that everyone would be in the Great Hall, so I set myself to the task of cleaning the Tower Room as pennance for my procrastination until I deemed it safe to Skill to Dutiful.

_Dutiful._

I felt him startle at the intrusion and slam his walls up. He had become lax in his defenses in the time I had left him alone. I would have to fix that. After a moment he lowered them again, slightly, and his Skill radiated anger towards me. _Badgerlock. Get out of my head! I could have you hanged for treason after what you've done to me! I hate you._

I let the anger and betrayal that he felt wash over me and regretted that I had not at least attempted to remedy things earlier. _Dutiful, I know that you're angry and you have every right to be. I did you a wrong, though I did not intend to. Believe me, I attempted to undo it and believed that I had succeeded until we both discovered that I had not. Please come to the Skill Tower so that we can discuss this properly. I owe you an apology as well as my explanation._

_I want neither apology nor excuses from you, traitor._ Dutiful was still angry, but I could tell that I had piqued his curiosity.

_Come to the tower, please._ I repeated my request and then broke our Skill connection. I sat down in Verity's old chair and sighed. Even that amount of skilling left a headache pounding through my skull. I pushed my pain aside as I tried to focus on what I must next do. I should try to reach out to Thick as well, I thought, but I had not remembered to get him any of the things that he'd mentioned wanting, save for the whistle that the Fool was carving, and I did not think that he would be very cooperative otherwise. I would not buy him as Shrewd had bought me; I intended to forge a bond of friendship as well as loyalty between Thick and the Prince, but the first step would be the gifts. And, I thought, ruefully, making sure that Dutiful would actually continue on as my student. 

I heard the scuff of footsteps outside the door and hastily retreated to melt into the shadows in the corner of the room. As though summoned by my thoughts, Dutiful entered and shut the door firmly behind himself, looking more like an irritated adolescent than an offended prince. I was not sure which would have been easier to deal with. The prince looked around the room and scowled at my apparent absense, taking his seat with a petulent air. That he was not aware of me was surprising, and I came to the realization that though I could sense him clearly with the wit, he apparently lacked that ability. That a man may be more or less witted than another was something that I had not previously considered. I chose not to keep my prince waiting and stepped from the shadows to reveal myself. " Thank you for coming, my prince." 

Dutiful's eyes widened fractionally with surprise, but he showed impressive control over his features for a boy at his age. "Badgerlock. I've come, but you needn't explain a thing. I am here to inform you that your services will no longer be required. If you have not left the keep tonight I will have my mother give the order to remove you from Buckkeep entirely."

" That would be the easiest path for me as well, Dutiful, but I think that if you truly did not wish to hear my explanation then you would have had me removed much sooner." 

" This is not about what is 'easiest'!" The Prince rose and glared at me, " You attempted to control me, just like Peladine! You should be grateful that I do not have you killed!" 

" I did not seek to control you. I only wished to preserve my life, for when I ordered you not to fight me I was certain that you intended to take my life." 

" I did no such thing!" 

" You did, Dutiful. Now, would you like to hear my explanation?" I was attempting to be patient with the boy. He glared at me and our conversation halted as I met his gaze, calmly. I had done my part to begin our reconciliation; Dutiful had to demonstrate his willingness as well. When I did not cow before his princely stare he scowled at me and returned to his seat. I sat down as well, in my customary place. 

" Explain yourself, Badgerlock." 

It was a command rather than a request, but I sensed that the boy's pride would bend no further. He believed that I had intentionally tried to control him. He had no reason to hear me out at all, when he could have easily asked for my head. That he had shown this much willingness to reconcile showed how much our time together had meant to him and I felt guilty once more.

" My prince, do you recall our time on the beach after having been transported there by the Skill pillar?" 

Dutiful looked wary, " I ... Not much. Some parts are clear to me and others fade as though they were a dream. I almost believed that it was a dream. Neither Chade nor my mother seemed to believe me when I tried to tell them of it." 

" It wasn't a dream. I took you and fled there through the Skill pillar when the piebalds had nearly captured us." 

" Yes... I remember that. It was confusing. How did you do that?" He demanded. I raised a hand to halt his question. 

" I will tell you what I know of the pillars soon. Right now I would like to explain my reason for placing the skill command on you. So, you remember the beach, vaguely. Do you remember when, during the night, by the fire, I told you that Peladine was dead?" At his solemn nod, I continued, " You attacked me and when I pinned you, you repelled at me with the wit. After I had released you, you attacked me with my knife. You had every intention of killing me, and so I ordered you ' Dutiful! Stop fighting me!'. Though I did not intend it, that order was laced with the Skill and it imprinted itself onto your mind. I could not figure out how to reverse it, and I thought that it had faded on its own when you showed no signs of strange behaviour. Only when you broke my command did I realize that it still existed. I apologize, Dutiful. It is something that I have regretted and if I could have reversed the command, then I would have done so immediately." 

The boy met my eyes, and was silent for a time, thinking. He had Verity's way of carefully considering the information that he was given before making a decision, and like his father, he spoke bluntly, " I am angry with you for not telling me, Tom. Such a thing could have had dire consequences in other circumstances. Furthermore, knowing that you can control me like that without my knowledge, how can I trust you again?" 

I, too, considered my words carefully, " Trust is a thing that is earned. I will give you my word, now, that I will never intentionally use the Skill to command you, and I will offer you my sincere apologies. When you feel that I have earned your trust, then you can trust me again." 

Dutiful nodded, slowly. " See that you keep your word, Tom Badgerlock. I will judge when the time is right for me to trust you again." 

It would have to do. The boy's forgiveness would come in time. " Very well, my prince." 

The prince rose, " You are dismissed, Tom. I promised Civil Bresinga that I would go riding with him today. 

I had my misgivings about letting Dutiful ride alone with Civil, but I doubted that any words of caution that I imparted would be heeded just then. " Good evening, Dutiful." 

And with that, we parted ways. I had managed to make things right with both of my boys that day, and had been forgiven by Jinna. I felt proud of my progress as I lay down to sleep that night, and dared to hope that the next day might be just as good. 


	7. Laudwine

Chapter 7

My rest did not last long. I could not have been asleep for more than an hour when a blast of Skill slammed into my mind and jarred me from my slumber.

_TOM!_

I scrambled upright in my bed, alert for danger, though I knew that I would see nothing. I sensed Dutiful's fear and panic. _Dutiful, what is it? What's wrong?_

_It's Civil! We went out riding and we stayed out late to go hunting with Pard. We went into the forested hills beyond the keep, we had gone some distance when he suddenly started shouting at me to flee! Three men came out of the trees, and I'm sure that one was Laudwine. They tried to pursue me but Civil held them off for long enough that I think I've lost them! Tom, he kept shouting that he wouldn't do it and that he wouldn't betray me. I fear they've killed him!_ He was paniced, and with the Skill I saw through his eyes the scene that he described; Laudwine on his war horse before them, two men on their horses emerging from the trees to either side behind them. Civil turning and drawing his blade to face the Piebalds as Dutiful reluctantly fled back into the trees. I was already up and pulling on my clothes. I fastened the sword that the Fool had given me to my belt.

 _Be calm, Dutiful, and do not Skill to me again unless it is an emergency or I contact you first. You still use the wit to focus on me and I fear that they will sense it and use it to locate you. I'm coming._

_We have to save him, Tom!_

_I'll do my best, now hush._

I burst out of my room, alarming the Fool, who was still awake and sitting in one of the hearthside chairs with her carving. " Fitz? What's wrong?" 

" Dutiful is in danger. The piebalds tried to take him while he was riding with Civil." 

" I'm coming with you, it will be easier to excuse your riding out of the keep at this hour if I come along. Go and get the horses, I'll catch up." 

There was no time to argue with that decision, and I sprinted from the room, not stopping until I reached the stables, where I lit a lantern and saddled Malta and Myblack. A bleary eyed stableboy, probably woken by my frenzied activity, came to assist me. Myblack wasn't happy about having to go out at this hour in the cold, but she seemed to sense my urgency for she was, for the most part, compliant. The horses were nearly ready when Lord Golden made his presence known. He was dressed all in black from his hat to his boots, far from his usual flashy attire, and had a sword fastened at his waist as well as a quiver of arrows and a bow at his back. I didn't think he knew how to use either. "Well hurry up, man! Time is of the essence! If the birds get away, it will be entirely on your head." 

So, that was our alibi. We were to be hunting some rare type of bird. Lord Golden was known for his eccentricities and fascination with feathers, so no one would question it. We were mounted and soon galloping out of the gates of Buckkeep, unchallenged, towards the hills.

 _Dutiful, Lord Golden and I are coming to you. Show me where you are._ I kept my sending tight and focused. Images came to my mind and I thought I recognized the area. 

_To the east of the castle, I think._

_Good, stay put._ I turned Myblack in that direction and tore off at a gallop. Malta was not to be outdone, and she kept pace with us easily, the Fool following my lead unquestioningly. We slowed only out of necessity when we reached the trees. They stood as tall, dark shadows in the moonlight. " We would be quieter if we went on foot, but there's no telling how close they are to finding the prince. Speed is what's important, as well as a quick getaway if we're found." 

" And Civil? Is he with them?" 

" I think that he had planned on betraying the prince, then changed his mind at the last minute. The prince thinks he's been taken or killed." 

" Let us hope that both can be saved." 

" Indeed." 

We rode on as quickly and as quietly as we could through the trees, alert for any danger. The horse's hooves crunched through the thin layer of ice on the snow, which was thankfully shallow. I missed Nighteyes keenly and was tempted to dismount and proceed on foot afterall, since it was harder to navigate through the more densely forested areas on horseback. This was still swifter, though, and the horses would be necessary if we were to escape with Dutiful and Civil quickly, I told myself. Especially, Eda forbid, if someone was hurt. The moonlight gave the world an eerie colourlessness, and I was once more shocked at the extent to which I had relied on Nighteyes's senses to navigate in the night.

The first sign that we found of the prince was his horse, the reins hastily tied to a low tree branch. She was uninjured, but confused and uncomfortable at being left in the middle of nowhere without her rider. 

_Dutiful, we found your horse. Where are you?_

_Shh, be quiet!_ Dutiful warned, _I'm hidden up a tree nearby, but the piebalds are close. I dare not move lest I reveal myself!_

I dismounted and drew my blade. I had to get to the prince's location and on foot I could go where a horse could not. The Fool looked at me, questioningly. I gave her a grim nod and untied the horse's reins. The Fool nocked an arrow. Myblack shifted restlessly and snorted, her ears flicking. I stood in silence, listening.

My wit-sense made me aware of Laudwine before my ears heard his approach. I turned in his direction and was ready when he appeared. " Well, well." Laudwine spoke, his deep voice rumbling like thunder in the darkness, " Tonight is my lucky night, it seems. A traitor, a nobleman, and two witted pieces of Farseer scum, all about to become four dead men." He drew his blade. 

Lord Golden loosed his arrow, but his aim was bad and the arrow vanished into the snow to Laudwine's left. From behind us, there was the crunch of horse's hooves on snow and the two other men appeared. One was a stout, unpleasant looking fellow whom I recognized as having ridden at Laudwine's stirrup at our last encounter. He sneered at us, thinking us trapped. The other had Civil and Pard secured behind him on his horse, unconscious or dead. Lord Golden aimed another arrow in their direction. 

" Bastard, " Laudwine spoke again, " Give us the prince and I'm still going to kill you, but I might let your friend there live." 

The threat made my blood boil and I bared my teeth, the wolf in me ready to fight, " I make no bargains with filth such as you. Your sister got her rightful end and I intend to deliver the same to you." _Dutiful, from where you left your horse, where are you?_

_To the north, about a third of a mile! I'm in a huge old oak surrounded by pines!_

Laudwine bellowed his fury and charged at us, blade bared. I suspected that his goal was based more on revenge than politics now. He swung low at me, and if I had merely ducked I probably would have been beheaded, but I threw myself to the ground and rolled, coming back to my feet easily. Getting back into my training routine had apparently paid off; I could now avoid being killed by a madman on a horse. I slapped the prince's horse on the rear and roared at her, voice and wit, to run. She squealed and charged into the path of the other two piebalds who were headed for the Fool. " Run! Go north!" I shouted to him, and just barely avoided another sweep of the sword from Laudwine. Myblack was restless from the activity around her, but amazingly I was able to catch her reins. As I began to swing myself up into the saddle, a searing pain ran along my right side and I cried out. Laudwine's sword had caught me that time. The pain nearly made me fall, but by force of will I hauled myself into the saddle and urged Myblack to run north. She needed little coaxing. Malta danced through the snow and branches just ahead of me. Our pursuers were at our heels. I raised my sword and turned Myblack to face them. " Get the prince! I'll get Civil!" 

If the Fool argued, I did not hear it over the ring of steel against steel as I locked blades with Laudwine. Our horses pranced side by side as our swords clashed. I snarled and pushed back against his blade, then urged Myblack to step back so I could pull my blade free. Laudwine's horse closed the ground between us swiftly though and he aimed a slash at me again which I ducked. The cut in my side screamed with pain, but I blocked it out. A battle fury was overtaking me and in such a state I would not stop until I or my enemies were dead. I aimed a thrust at Laudwine's midsection, which he deflected. The moonlight sparkled and flashed against our blades as they met in that deadly dance. 

" I'll kill you, you traitorous bastard!" Laudwine growled at me as our blades locked again. We both broke free and our horses side-stepped apart. 

" I won't kill you, " I promised, savagely, " I'll just take off your other arm!" 

He roared then and his wit-beast echoed it, screaming as it closed the distance between us again. " Get them, Hammer!" He shouted. His horse reared up and aimed a kick at Myblack that sent her prancing back until her way was blocked by the surrounding trees. Hammer closed the distance again and Laudwine swung his sword at me. I raised my blade to block it, but was knocked from my saddle as its impact coinsided with Myblack rearing up to challange the enemy horse. I scrambled to my feet, clumsily, leaving the snow reddened in my wake. Laudwine swung at me again from his horse's back, and I was knocked to the ground again as I met his blade. I think I would have been trampled, had not Myblack gone chest to chest with Hammer, biting and kicking. I rolled clear of the fighting horses and came to my feet again in time to see Laudwine jump from the saddle. He raised his sword and aimed to strike me, but I was an assassin and did not scruple against kicking him in the belly as he came at me. He was knocked back, but did not lose his footing. I pressed my advantage and aimed a crude chop at his side. I wished I had my battle axe. Cries not far from me told me that Laudwine's companions had gone around us to find the prince, but I could spare no thought to them just then.

Laudwine dodged, but I managed to graze his chest. In return he delt me a cut across my left arm. " Not so tough now without your wolf, are you, bastard?!" He taunted. 

I snarled and lunged, inhuman in my fury. I dashed his blade aside and stepped inside his reach to punch him, hard, in the stomach where I had kicked him before. He staggered back several steps and got his sword between us again. As I charged again, I saw my chance. I swung at him from the side, forcing him into the range of the battling horses. His wit-beast was conscious of him and did not trample him as I'd hoped, but he was knocked to the side. As he recovered I aimed a thrust that caught him between the ribs. He screamed his rage and I felt the bite of his sword as it sank into my side, between ribs and hip. I kicked him back, tearing his sword from my flesh in the process and thrust downward, sinking my blade into his vitals. When that did not finish him instantly, I removed my blade, sank it into his throat then pulled it free again. His body spasmed under my blade, eyes bulging full of hatred and fear as his lifeblood gushed from him with each pump of his failing heart.

His wit-beast screamed as it felt it's partner's death. Myblack danced to the side and then retreated several feet to avoid the frenzied wheeling of its front hooves. I watched in horror as my wit-sense of the stallion became blurred. Laudwine was entering his beast's body, just as Peladine had occupied her cat. The beast's eyes were wild as its shod hooves flailed in the air. In the moments of their transition I shot forward and, bracing my sword against my chest, drove the sword home into his breast with a shout. The man-beast screamed horribly and began to buck wildly, trying to disloge the sword. I fled, immediately, to avoid being kicked to death, and scooped up Laudwine's sword from where it had fallen in a pool of blood next to his body. It had a shorter reach than mine, and I felt a pang of regret at abandoning the sword the Fool had given me, but it would have to do. I hoped Myblack would have the sense to get away from the other creature. It would die, but it's death would not be swift. I felt sorry for the beast, but found it difficult to summon any remorse for Laudwine.

My foe was defeated, but there was no time to lick my wounds nor to assess the damage done to my body just yet. Dimly, I was aware of the warm blood down my side and the pain lancing through me at every step, but the battle was not yet done. I hastened north on foot, with any luck Dutiful and the Fool would still be alive and nearby. With even better luck, they would have escaped back to the keep. 

I slowed my steps as I neared their position and concealed myself behind a tree. The Prince was in the saddle behind Lord Golden and the two were trapped between the piebalds. Evidently the stocky man had come up behind them while the one holding Civil hostage cut off their escape. If they tried to escape to either side, the piebalds would circle and cut them off again. The snow in the area was already trampled with the imprints of horse's hooves, I noted. The Prince had been given Lord Golden's bow, I saw the evidence of several arrows already fired in the snow, and he currently had an arrow aimed toward Civil's captor. Lord Golden held his sword two handed, confident of his seat on Malta, and was ready to defend against a charge from the stocky piebald. Blows had already been exchanged, and everyone save Civil's captor seemed worse for wear. I weighed my options and then decided to sneak around and come at the stocky piebald from behind. The two piebalds must have come to some sort of agreement however, because the decision was soon taken from me. Civil's captor charged, Dutiful's arrow flew wide by a narrow margin, and Lord Golden shifted his weight in response, to urge Malta to evade. Once their direction had been decided, the stocky piebald shot forward on his mount to intercept them. Malta was quick and light on her feet, but doubly burdened as she was, the other horse managed to close their distance. Stocky made a grab for the Prince and managed to drag him from the saddle by his upper arm. The Prince cried out in alarm as he was forcibly unseated. In this time, the other piebald curved his path to come up along Malta's other side. Lord Golden could probably have escaped on Malta, but he wheeled her around, dislodged his feet from the stirrups to bring them underneath him, and like a bird taking flight, lept from the saddle to tackle the other piebald to the ground. The prince was released and was nearly stepped on by the piebald's horse.

I took action and ran onto the scene, sword raised, to confront Civil's piebald captor. The odds were now three-to-two in our favour. He had foolishly stopped to gape as his comrade was knocked from his saddle and he turned too slowly to stop my blade from plunging into his lower back. My own wounds pulled excruciatingly as I reached, and I staggered, collapsing to one knee. The piebald screamed and clutched at his wound, toppling sideways off of his horse. I scrambled to my feet again to finish the job, cutting the man's throat cleanly. I panted for breath. The horse nearly got away, but Dutiful took it's reins and started untying his unconscious friend and his cat. They were still breathing. " Dutiful, see if you can get Civil onto Malta. She's the best behaved and least likely to drop him." I turned to see how Lord Golden was handling his opponent.

Dutiful's eyes widened as he looked at me, " Tom, you're bleeding!" 

" No time for that now." I raced over to the Fool. It was difficult to tell where and if she was hurt because of her black clothing, but the snow around the two combatants was dyed red with blood and it trickled down her face like a hideous parody of the Fool's old face paint. She was graceful as she stepped around her opponent's blade, but her attacks were easily blocked. It was plain that she had not bothered practicing since our last encounter with the piebalds. Though she was proficient in grappling, weaponry was apparently not to her liking, which did not surprise me. When she blocked a downward slash by her opponent I seized my chance and darted my blade between them, spilling the piebald's entrails, steaming, into the snow. The body collapsed a moment later. 

" There may be others hidden in the woods. We have to get the prince back to the castle." I spoke, pantingly. 

The Fool stared at the fallen body in shock for a moment before turning wide eyes on me. It was Lord Golden who spoke to me, " Badgerlock, about time! ... Badgerlock?" 

My right leg gave way under me and I collapsed to the snowy ground, gasping for breath. 

" Badgerlock, what's wrong? Where are you hurt?" A note of panic was evident in Lord Golden's voice. 

Darkness was merging with the night at the edges of my vision. I blinked to try to clear my eyes. " Laudwine, he stabbed me." I explained, simply, clasping a hand over my side. 

" Fitz, hold on." The Fool wrapped Lord Golden's cloak about my shoulders and folded his jacket to press over my wound. The pressure sent a new wave of agony surging through me and I cried out, but the Fool held it there, mercilessly. " We have to get you to a healer." 

" I don't think I can stand back up, " I admitted. 

" I've got you. Just don't die." The world tilted alarmingly around me and I realized belatedly that the Fool had lifted me up. " Myblack! Here, girl!" The Fool called. _Eda mercy_ , I thought, _That horse is going to kill me for sure_

Truthfully, I remember little of the journey back to the keep. My memory of that time is limited to moments of pain as the movement of the horse jarred my injuries, the moonlit sky above us, and the way the shadows moved and shifted in the snow. The Fool, I think, rode with me and kept me in the saddle, because I recall her voice whispering things that I could not understand about time and apologizing for continuing to pull me into danger. It seemed a silly thing to apologize for, since I was the one who went after Dutiful in the first place and I would have told her so, had not darkness claimed my consciousness once more. 


	8. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fitz is Skill-healed. Excuse me for this re-write of the scene. It's been altered to fit my story, but I do not pretend that it's as good as the original!

Chapter 8

Unconscious, I was not in darkness, nor did I look down on my body and the surrounding world as some soldiers have recounted to their comrades around the fire. Instead, I flew and I was no longer aware of being FitzChivalry, or Tom Badgerlock, or even a human at all. The sky was made up of a thousand blues, and the sea was a thousand more. I breathed deep of the salty air and all of the myriad scents that the wind carried to me. There was game nearby and I was hungry. It had been too long since I had last eaten to satiation, and the young ones would be hungry too. I snorted my contempt for the weaklings. They could hardly be considered dragons, and yet they were the closest thing to dragons left in this world. I would preserve them. I arced and turned a great circle in the air so that any below could behold the thousand more blues that my scales shon in the sunlight. I was tempted to bugle my mastery of the sky into its vast reaches; this was my domain, and any in it would bow to my superiority. The temptation was resisted though, as it would not do to alert my pray to its fast approaching death. Below me was an island, and I saw on its shores several sea cows bathing in the sunlight. I could almost taste the salts of their blood and the juiciness of their fat. I dove, tucking my wings in and spreading my claws for the kill. 

But I was a wolf. I did not have wings, and I felt myself detach from the dizzying dive. _That's right, my brother. You do not belong there. You belong with the pack._ Suddenly my paws felt solid snow beneath me. I spread my toes to distribute my weight so that I would not fall through. _Nighteyes?_ The sky was a pale gray and its light reflected off of the crystaline snow that blanketed the hills around me. In this perpetual twilight, it was always the perfect time to hunt. I pointed my muzzle to the sky and howled. Answering howls floated to my ears from the distance. There were no trees in this place, no bushes underwhich game might hide. The wind whispered to me and blew the snow as powder around my paws, but I felt no cold. I felt no fear either, for I was not lost. My tracks merged with Nighteyes' and his spread on before me, showing me the way. I broke into a trot. I could hear the wolves calling me in the distance. 

_Tom? Tom, wake up, please!_ The howls turned to voices and I frowned, not wishing to be distracted from the calls of the wolves. Nighteyes would be there. 

_TOM!_ The boy's focus sunk into me like a cat's claws and pulled at me, taking me further from the snowy hills, and I heard snatches of voices raised in a panic.

" ... - know what to do! He's lost so much blood!" 

" ... healer. May already be too late." 

" Boy, don't you dare give up now. Don't you dare!" 

" It's all my fault, I'm so sorry, Tom!" 

Their emotions were like hail stones dropping onto a still pond, creating noise and turbulence. It was all so annoying. I allowed my essence to slip away from them, back to the peace of the hills. Everything was so much simpler there. 

I awoke several times, though I do not remember much. Only disjointed moments in time. I fed on an elk with the dragon and I ran through the hills as a wolf. Once, the dragon turned its regard to me, lazily and brushed me aside, _**Be gone, human. This is my kill.**_ I was sent tumbling with the force of her casual shove. I was adrift in a sea of consciouses. 

_Shadow Wolf! There you are! Where have you been? It's been days!_ I was seized and put back into the shape of a man-wolf that did not quite fit me. I let myself trickle out of it until I was able to flow freely again.

I stared for a long time at blackness, and I did not realize that my eyes were open until I saw a face appear in my line of vision. It was Chade. " Boy, you're awake! Thank Eda. We were worried for your life." 

I blinked at him, " What happened to your face?" I croaked. It was red and peeling as though he'd been too long in the sun. 

He either ignored my query or did not understand my gravely words, and held a cup of water to my lips. I drank, thirstily, but he took it away when I had not nearly had enough. I drifted once more. I could almost see Nighteyes's tail waving as he trotted along in the distance, I hastened after him, but minutes or days later, I was grasped as though by a birds talons and I hung, thrashing feebly in its grip. _Nighteyes!_ I called, but I could not see him. 

My next awareness was of the Fool's cool hand, gloveless, touching my cheek. I could feel her Skilling after me with the patches of magic on her fingertips and felt her worry. Her hand was much too cold, and it felt like ice against my fevered skin. Her fingerprints were like entry points into my mind and through them, the voices came again and began to fill it. I had no way to filter them out. They crashed louder than cymbols and knocked my own thoughts aside like a stampeed. In the chaos, Lord Golden spoke, " I can reach him, I think. His mind is clouded with fever, but I can feel him there. I have done this once before, I had to pull him back when he used the Skill to heal his wolf. I have a hold of him now, and I keep him here, but that is all. I don't know what to do." His voice was tight with effort and fear. I could feel the Fool if I focused on the thin golden thread that was ensnaring me, as bright and strange as she was when she had first left her fingerprints on my wrist. My attention strengthened her grip on me and the hills grew farther away.

 _No,_ I struggled against the connection, _No, let me go._

_" I cannot. "_ Lord Golden spoke aloud, and my Fool spoke to my mind, begging me, _" I'm sorry, please forgive me, but I cannot let you go."_ I could feel her regret at holding me against my will but also her conflicting desire to see me live. I was dying? 

" Let him go?" King Shrewd demanded, incredulously. No, not Shrewd. It was Chade. His voice came right next to my ear, " Fitz, do you hear me? You are not allowed to die. I forbid it! Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and fight to live, damn you! " 

" Fitz?" Dutiful was a turmoil of thought. 

" Never mind that, Dutiful." Chade snapped, " It is an old joke between bastards. Tom had healed his wolf once with the skill and I have read several scrolls pertaining to the subject. While Lord Golden holds him in his body, use your Skill to reach into him, find what's wrong, and fix it." 

" I don't know how!" Dutiful protested, but I felt his cold hands on my side. He skilled after me, and I batted him away. He was seeking my mind, not my body. I floated there, suspended. The Fool's feeble Skill held me there, but I felt no connection to my physical body and the howls of wolves were distant now. 

" Just Skill into his body and fix it!" Chade shouted, frustrated. I could feel his anger at himself for not having mastered the Farseer magic. 

" I'm trying, I can't!" Dutiful protested. 

Was this truly death? I felt the Fool's terror and worry and love washing over me through our bond as she brushed the hair from my forehead, her other hand pressing her skilled fingers to their matching prints on my wrist. I tried to convey to her my apologies. In this place it was so hard to care. Still, I felt regret. I did not want to die without bidding farewell to those I loved and that had loved me. Hap. Kettricken. Molly. Burrich, who had just learned that I lived. I regretted now, not telling Patience that I lived. She had been the closest thing I had to a mother. 

" Skill into his body? Chade, let me try. Dutiful, reach for his spirit and do not let go." I felt them switch their positions, and Dutiful wrapped his Skill around me, clinging desperately. _No_ , I thought, _It won't work, stop!_ Dutiful knew me only as Tom Badgerlock. Like Nettle's man-wolf, the image that Dutiful had of me would not contain me. Suddenly, I grasped what the Fool had meant when she said that words could not define a perosn. Words could not fully express the meaning they were meant to convey, never mind encompass the whole of a person.

They did not hear my fears. The Fool released my wrist and I fell like water through a seive through Dutiful's image of me. My consciousness was washed away from me and still I fell, until I was claimed by the jaws of the greatest predator. Death's maw was wide and black and I heard the wolves again as it shut around me. I felt myself dissolve away, becoming smaller and smaller. The thread of my life unraveled. Nighteyes stood before me, snarling, his coat abristle. _Get back, Changer!_

I felt my body gasp, taking in air that seared my lungs like hottest fire or coldest ice. My whole body was burning, and where there was once blackness there was now purest light. I felt as though it would tear me apart, but the Fool held me, our connection blazing gold as it never had before. She opened herself to me with abandon, heedless or ignorant of the dangers of the skill current rushing around us, and I felt her flow into me, probing my body with her skilled fingers and finding its essence as she did with her carvings. Such a deep connection caused neither pleasure nor pain, and I knew a moment of fear at being so vulnerable, but I felt her limit her examination of my being to my physcal body. Neither my heart nor my mind did she enter, though she could have done so with the ease of the wind blowing through an open door. She was sunlight dancing on the sea and the wind blowing through the petals of a flower, elusive and playful. I felt her joy soar as she caught me. Dutiful was there, too, and his Skilling was artlesss and pure with the naiivety of a child but the strength of a man. He grasped her other hand and I felt him push his Skill through her, into me. After some shouted words that I could not grasp, even Chade, his own Skill weak and flickering came after me. Someone had summoned Thick, and he burnt with the Skill like a bonfire, giving strength to the joining. There was something else, too, but it stayed at the shadows, observing.

 _" I can see it. There is damage everywhere, Chade! His muscles have been cut and torn apart and his guts pour toxins into his very blood. The problem is no longer just his wound; there is infection spreading through his entire body, but I can't fix it, Chade!"_ The Fool was aghast _"I can see what is wrong, but I cannot simply strip it away as I would with my carving, it would kill him!"._

Chade spoke now, steadily but trembling with excitement and nervousness, as always two steps ahead, _" Dutiful, use his Skill to guide you. I will show you how it is meant to be put together."_ As their Skill poured through the Fool's link to me, I felt them rush through my veins like the heat of brandy. Clumsily, Chade linked his mind to Dutiful's and the Fool linked them both to me. Thick fed his skill through them all like the roots of a tree spreading through the ground.

For a moment, all was clear, and I stared up at them. The Fool had no skill of her own, no hereditary predilection towards the magic. Her only skill was in the shadows on the fingertips of one hand, remnants of her accidental touch of Verity's Skill-soaked arms. Thick, on the other hand, had Skill in plenty but neither training nor the desire to learn; Chade had desire in plenty, but his skilling was feeble. He had begun his learning too late. Dutiful was the only one of us with both strength and intelligence to skill, and like me, his Skill was tainted with the wit. For myself, my Skilling was erratic since my boyhood instructor, Galen, had attacked me, Skill and body and left me for dead. Yet in their healing of me, we had all come together. The Skilled flowed through us and linked us into one. Dutiful's cotery, and he the most capable of us all. I was horrified at what had been born tonight. My horror was only made greater by its contrast with Chade's unholy glee, the Fool's joy, Dutiful's satisfaction, and Thick's indifference. Chade's eyes were lit with delight, and pride, and untethered ambition that bordered on madness. I had to turn aside from that terrifying sight that made my guts turn cold.

" Stop! Stop! " The Fool shrieked, wrenching her hand free of its place on my back. She had forgotten to deepen her voice in her alarm, "Stop! We've gone too far!" 

Our connection snapped, but what they had begun, my body continued. What should have taken weeks, if it ever occurred, was accelerated into moments and it felt as though my body tore itself apart as it borrowed from sound flesh to fuel the healing of my rotting flesh and more. A structure built too tall for its foundation would fall. A wall built with the mortar stretched thin would collapse. So it was with me. My body raced through its repairs, trying to achieve more than it could possibly do with the resources it had, but it did them anyway. I felt like butter spread too thin over a piece of bread or a bridge about to collapse into a flood. When it was done, I lay panting on sheets soaked with my own sweat mingled with the toxins and rotted flesh that was purged from my body. I had no strength to do so much as blink and yet my body trembled and my heart beat a wild rhytm in my chest. The room seemed to spin around me, and I had one last glimpse of Dutiful's exhausted but satisfied coterie before I fell into as deep a sleep as I have ever known. My last thought was one of dread. 

During my convalescence, much of my time was spent sleeping. I was told that during my waking moments my energy was taken up by consuming as much of the porridge and broth that were given to me as I could. I was ravenously hungry and when my belly was full my body spent what energy I had taken in to restore its reserves. My injuries were gone, but my body was wasted and flesh had fallen from me. I have no memories of the first four days. Funny, I thought, during one of my more lucid moments, that I should need to heal from a healing. I was also told that Starling had come to see me and that Hap had nearly knocked the door down in his desperation to see me. He had not been allowed in. Jinna too, had apparently come, for a charm designed to encourage healing was hung by my bed. On my first return to wakefulness that I can truly recall, I had a visit from Kettricken, who had apparently been keeping watch by my side. At first, I did not recognize my stuffy servant's chamber. It had been transformed with elegant furniture, scented candles, tapestries, and fat cushions. In my confusion, my eyes drifted around the unfamiliar space. When they came to rest upon Kettricken, seated on a cushion by my bed, tears sprang to her eyes and fell like liquid diamonds from her eyes 

" Fitz, oh Fitz! You're awake!" She exclaimed, bringing her hands up to her mouth. She leaned over and tenderly brushed the hair from my brow. " How you have suffered. It grieves me to see how much your bravery has cost you, and yet I am grateful. How can I thank you for risking yourself to save my son once again?" The tears flowed in twin streams down her pale cheeks now, and I could see that her eyes and nose were tinted pink from earlier tears as well. She was dressed in her nightdress as if for sleep and her yellow hair hung in an untidy braid down her back. Nevertheless, an echo of Verity woke a pang in my heart. She looked lovely even in her sadness. I reached out a hand to her and she took it, a tiny smile gracing her lips.

I attempted to comfort her, my voice hoarse from thirst and from too long disuse, " I'm fine". I was shocked to find that it was so. I endeavored to sit up and my queen helped me with a gentle arm about my shoulders.

" You are not fine," she corrected me. " I can see what a toll your healing has taken on you. You need rest." 

I touched a hand to my side, cautiously, and felt smooth flesh, " I'm not hurt." I was astonished, despite having been privy to the details of my own Skill healing.

Kettricken took my words as stubbornness and rebuked me gently, " Your wound is gone, yes, but it will take time for you to regain your strength. If only you could see how this healing has wasted you..." She looked sad, then reached for a mug of warm milk on the low table by my bed. I had never cared for the stuff, and wrinked my nose at the smell, but my thirst and the fact that my Queen held the mug to my lips bade me drink without a fuss. 

" What of Dutiful and Civil?" Dutiful had seemed a bit battered, and Civil had been unconscious when last I had seen them. Though Civil had changed his mind, he had shown himself twice of being capable of treachery. I hardened my heart against any pity for him. 

" Dutiful is fine, thanks to you." Kettricken's tone conveyed her deep gratitude, and I felt honoured. " He came to me directly after you'd been brought back and told me what happened. Civil was distraught when he awoke." Her eyes filled with sympathy for the traitor, " He confessed all to me and to Dutiful. He had been planning to give my son to the Piebalds in exchange for his and his mother's freedom, but he regretted his decision and told Dutiful to flee." She bowed her head, " I told him that he should have simply asked for my help. I fear that I have only increased his guilt, for Chade then delivered the news that his mother had taken her own life. She had apparently been much abused in her own home, and I am ashamed that such a thing could have befallen the mother of my son's closest friend." 

" The closest friend who nearly got him killed, twice." 

" You think that I do not know that, FitzChivalry?" Kettricken fixed her pain filled gaze on me, " I am even more ashamed that I have been unable to protect my own son. But Civil has shown himself to be loyal in the end. Even though the cost would have been his own and his mother's life, he still changed his mind and tried to save my son." 

" From the danger he invited, " I grumbled, but my heart was not in it. I was far too weary and hungry. 

" Yes, that is true." Kettricken agreed. She must have sensed some of what I was feeling for she reached for the bowl of torn bread soaked in broth on the low table. It smelled good. 

" I can feed myself." I offered and reached out to take the bowl. My hands shook and Kettricken calmly took up a spoonful of the bread and held it for me to eat. I did, though I felt shamed at my weakness. " There may be more Piebalds than those, " I spoke between bites, " Three, I killed in the woods, but there may have been more in town." 

" Do not fret, " Kettricken put the spoon, laden with sodden bread back into my mouth, perhaps to keep me from speaking, " Others are dealing with that just now. Rest and regain your strength." 

I spoke once I'd swallowed," What of the Fool? He was injured fighting one of the Piebalds, there was blood on his face." 

" He is just fine. I offered to have the healer see to him, but he said that he would tend to himself. I think that he was more concerned about you at the time. We nearly lost you." 

" I'm fine." 

" You will be soon." Kettricken rose once I'd finished my mushy meal and pulled her wrap about her shoulders, " Get some sleep, Fitz." 

" It is night then, not morning?" I was disoriented. 

" Yes, it is very late." 

" Why were you here?" 

" I was watching over you while you slept. I feared that you would yet die from all that you've been through and I could not bear the thought. Sleep would not come to me and so I came to you." 

" But you brought food." I was confused. 

" Incase you awoke. I wanted to do what I could. This experience has reminded me of how much I owe you, FitzChilvalry, and how much I value you. Not only because of how you have protected Dutiful, but because of who you are to me. You were my confidante when I was just a girl come to this court to wed Verity, you were with me as I journeyed to find my husband in the mountains, and you saw him become part of his dragon. You have been a true friend to me and without you I also feel that a link to my past and to Verity would be gone." Tears sparkled on her lashes again. 

Suddenly I was shamed that I had avoided visiting Buckkeep for as long as I had in the years I spent living with Nighteyes and eventually Hap." You have been friend to me too, Kettricken. Though I have been distant, you have never been far from my mind or my heart." 

She smiled at me and bent to kiss my brow, " Good night, FitzChivalry. You are truly a wonderful sacrafice and a wonderful friend." She was graceful as she left by the secret passageway, looking a Queen even in her nightrobe, but in her at that moment, I saw only a friend and a woman who had truly been worthy of Verity. I sank into a deep sleep then, and was only dimly aware of padded footsteps in the adjoining room. That night I dreamed of the sea, but I was not on a boat. I cut through the water and my vision was full of greens and blues. The waters were warm, fish were plentiful, and dark silhouettes of the providers floated above me. 


	9. Serpents and Dragons

Chapter 9

" I'm getting tired of beef broth and bread, " I grouched, " I want real food. Meat." 

The Fool sighed a long suffering sigh. It was not the first time we'd had this conversation, and indeed it was not the first time my stubbornness had manifested itself as crankiness that morning. It had started shortly after my waking, when I found myself frustrated at the prospect of spending yet another day staring at the walls of my windowless chamber, laying in bed like an invalid. I was not an invalid. I was healed. I was not ignorant of how wasted my body had become, of how gaunt my face was or how talon-like my fingers appeared, but six days abed was intolerable when I had no injury to prevent me from rising. I could no longer find refuge from my boredom in sleep, either. That night I dreamed the dragon dream again, and I joined the dragon on her hunt. This time though, she shifted her focus from her pray, a flotilla of Chalcedean ships, and for a time I saw naught but her whirling eyes staring into my soul. I slammed my Skill walls shut as I woke, as Verity had taught me when I was a boy. Still, I thought I felt a spark of recognition from her before she turned back to her hunt. It made me uneasy and I resolved that I would not spend another day laying there. I rose from my sickbed, dismayed at how weak my legs were, and managed all of three shuffling steps before I fell to the ground. The Fool must have already been up, because the door to my room was pulled open and revealed Lord Golden's figure bathed in sunlight from the open windows. It must have been nearly midday and I was irritated that I had slept so late. I blinked up at him.

It was the Fool who spoke to me, voice full of concern, " Are you alright?" She knelt, and to my humiliation, picked me up as if I were a child and set me back in my bed. Like a child, I glowered, refusing to be surprised again at the slender woman's strength. 

" I was trying to get up, not back into bed." 

An eyebrow twitched toward the ceiling, " It didn't seem to be working well for you." 

I growled, " I'm not staying in bed another day." 

The Fool just regarded me, calmly taking my frustration as a sign that I was not much hurt by my fall, " It would seem that you are, Fitzy, my dear, and your legs seemed to agree with me."

Seeing that no help was forthcoming, I pushed myself back up and began to stand. The Fool stepped back and watched me, the other eyebrow having risen to join its mate. I glared and defiantly made it to my clothing chest, where I pulled out the first clean shirt and trousers that I cound find. I began to change my clothes, stubbornly ignoring the sweat that had begun to bead on my brow from that simple exertion. It ached to raise my arms, and my fingers were too clumsy to tie the laces of my shirt. I had to sit to pull on my socks and to get my trousers onto my legs and struggled to stand again to finish the job. The only help the Fool offered was to tie the laces of my shirt, and I refused to be embarrassed that I needed help with the buttons on my trousers as well. I had been almost able to reach the door when my knees suddenly refused to hold my weight, and I sank to the ground again. The Fool stepped closer and offered me an arm, but instead I took up a mug that had been left on my side table and threw it. It did not go far. The Fool tutted and restored it to its place. I gritted my teeth, but accepted the arm that was offered once more. Slowly, I made my way to be seated at the table and was grateful to sit, though I hated to admit it. Then the argument over breakfast had begun. 

The room was as immaculately neat as ever, and Lord Golden, too, was perfectly groomed. I had not bathed in days, my beard had grown, my hair was a mess, and I had barely been able to dress. The Fool attempted to reason with me, " You have only just been able to get out of bed, barely, I might add. You should take your recovery slowly. You have no reserves of strength left." 

" All the more reason why I should have some real food instead of the tasteless mush I've been given." 

The Fool stared at me for a moment, as though I'd spoken another language." I see your point. I had thought that easy foods would be better for you, but if you think that you are up to it, I will send the serving boy for our lunch." Something was off in her tone and I had honestly expected more of an argument. I was instantly on alert.

" What is it, what happened?" 

The Fool looked at me, head cocked to one side, " What? I said that I would send a serving boy for lunch. Would you prefer it if I argued with you?" 

I was not in a mood for these games, if she wanted to keep her secrets, then fine. " Lunch, with actual food this time, would be appreciated." 

" You shall have it, then." A serving boy was summoned and soon scurried off again for our food. The Fool's eyes never left me and I scrutinized her expression for any trace of her secret, but she only looked back at me as though I were some complicated riddle to be solved. Her focus drifted afar for a moment but before I could comment, her attention was back on me, " I think that you ought to shave now, " She decided. 

Why she had been thinking so hard about my beard was beyond my comprehension, " Very well, Fool." I really did not want to rise again, but I pushed myself to my feet nevertheless. My blade and mirror were in my room. 

" No, stop!" The Fool interrupted, " No, how stupid of me. Of course not." 

I stared at her, annoyed that I had gone through the trouble of rising only to be stopped, " What is it?" 

She waved a long fingered hand at me, vaguely gesturing in the direction of my face, " Don't shave." 

" Alright..." I sat again. 

" Infact, you really ought to lay down, Badgerlock, you are looking most unwell," Lord Golden spoke. 

" Fool, I just told you that I'm not spending another day in bed. I've come all the way out here and now I'm going to sit here and eat my lunch, " I snapped. 

" Yes, you're right, of course." The Fool rubbed at her eyes, smudging Lord Golden's carefully applied paints, " Forgive me, Fitz, my sleep has been restless of late." 

" And mine, as well, " I confessed, regretting my outburst, " I have been dreaming often of dragons, since you healed me, and I always seem to wake more tired than when I first slept after those dreams." 

The Fool looked up at me sharply, her eyes wide, " You have?" 

" Yes, usually of flying and hunting. Why?" 

She recovered her composure, " I simply find it interesting. I am sure that many in the Six Duchies have similar dreams, or at least those who were alive when our dragons soared through the skies." 

" I'm sure they do." I doubted that they were like mine, but I cast my thoughts away from that track. I did not want to think about those whilring, copper eyes staring at me. Even the brief mention of that dream sent a shiver running up my spine and I strengthened my Skill walls. 

Our lunch had arrived and I was grumpily but hungrily devouring my food when I heard footsteps from behind me. " Fitz, you're up!" Chade stepped out of my closet of a room and smiled to see me seated at the table. I looked away. I could not look at him without seeing his glee at having tapped into the power of the Skill. It was like looking at a child playing with his father's sword. Lord Golden gestured him to a seat at the table, and he sat as he fished in the pocket of his robe. He pulled out several tiny pots of cosmetic and handed them to the Fool, who took them with a nod. " Would that I had powders and creams of this quality when I had masqueraded as Lady Thyme! I would not have needed to wear so many veils nor make my chamber pot smell so foul." He aimed a smile at me at that shared memory. It alarmed me that he would speak of such things aloud even when we were alone, but I managed a forced smile for him. He accepted it and chuckled. I had been the poor lad to wait on the cantankerous Lady Thyme in the procession that accompanied then Prince Verity who was to mediate the dispute between Dukes Kelvar and Shemshy as to who was responsible for the manning of Watch Island Tower. The reason for my presence was known only to Chade and I, not even to Verity. If I suspected Kelvar of being a traitor to the crown and selling our secrets to the Red-Ship Raiders or deliberately underfunding our defenses, I was to quietly do away with him. I had not known that it was Chade whom I had been serving, and he had made her chamber pots smell most foul indeed.

" What did you need those for? Surely you're not still dressing as an old woman, " I queried.

" No, no," Chade shook his head, " I had a bit of an incident testing my new exploding powder, it's all sorted now, but I had to spend a few days painting my face and drawing my eyebrows on." He rubbed at his cheeks, possibly in memory of peeling skin there. 

" So I didn't dream that. I thought I had dreamed seeing your face all red and peeling." I said while the Fool served Chade a portion of our lunch from the serving trays.

Chade frowned, " No, well, like I said, it's all sorted now." He took a bite of some roasted meat and chewed, " It's good to see that you're up and about, Fitz. We thought we'd lost you." 

I nodded thoughtfully at the bowl of broth with a few lumps of meat that the serving boy had brought for me, " I'm grateful that you were able to save me, Chade, Fool. But, what you did... It had costs. I - Chade." I peered at him. No trace of fading burns. No scars. I should have noticed earlier, " Chade, no. Please tell me that you haven't been experimenting on your own." 

Chade scoffed, " Of course not. I had Thick with me." 

" That's scarcely help!" My voice rose with my dismay, " He's a simpleton! He would have no idea what to do if you lost yourself to the Skill-current," I had to pause to breathe, " and you are no better. You have no training, Chade, and you know nothing of the dangers of what you do." 

Chade was not impressed by my argument, " As a bastard in those times, the training was never offered to me." Unspoken was the reminder that I had refused to help him, " But all training must begin somewhere. If you argued that every new student must avoid the Skill because he has no training, why then no one would ever learn." 

" You know what I mean, Chade. I am not saying that you should not continue your studies, " though I greatly wished to, " I am saying that it is dangerous. A new Skill student spends most of his time in meditation and is taught of the dangers before diving right in." 

" I well recall how you were 'taught', Fitz, and I fear that the marks of your education remain with you still! You have too much caution, and I cannot blame you after how the Skill was turned on you, but you are limiting yourself. Now is the time when we should be re-discovering this ancient magic. Imagine the wonders that could be left unknown because you thought it would be too dangerous!" 

" I have seen the power that the Skill has, I have nearly lost myself more than once in its flow. If you wander blindly into it, it will tear you apart and all that will be left is your body, drooling in your chair." 

Chade slammed his palm down on the table, glaring at me with an anger that was decades old. The Fool did not even flinch, she was staring somewhere over my left shoulder. " Your fear will cripple us all! Would you see me denied the magic that is my right by birth?" 

" No, but I would have you exersise caution while using it!" I was sweating with the effort that our argument was demanding, and I suddenly felt too weary to shout, " Chade, you are a part of this coterie. What would cripple us would be losing you to the alure of the Skill." 

" Coterie, what coterie?" Chade demanded, still angry. 

" Dutiful's coterie. Did you not feel it while you healed me? You, Dutiful, Thick, the Fool, and I, we are all linked." I was hard pressed to conceal the depth of my horror at that, but I sought to appeal to his vanity, " You are a key member in our group. If we lost you because of your recklessness, it would wound us all." 

Chade was slightly mollified and he settled back into his chair, " I have been cautious, Fitz. I have taken care not to draw too much strength from Thick, and I have resisted the pull of the Skill. Look." He showed me his hands, the knuckles free of swelling, " My fingers and my knees no longer pain me. Would that we had known of this magic while my brother still lived, we never would have lost Verity. Imagine how much more we have yet to learn!" 

" You cannot do it alone, nor should you be risking Thick in your explorations. Promise me, Chade, that you will not experiment with the Skill again without me present." 

" You would babysit me?" He looked insulted, " I know my limitations, I have read the scrolls. It is too late to offer me your help now, boy." 

" No it is not, Chade. I can see now that I misjudged you. Join Dutiful and I in the tower for our lessons and you will still be able to learn and practice, but you will do it safely. You have asked me to be Skillmaster, and this is my decision." 

" I will consider it," Chade conceded, " But I will not be denied my magic. You have no say in that." 

I bowed my head to that, " I know, Chade. But, trust me. This must be done slowly. Since you've already begun using Thick as a King's Man, you should bring him too. I intended to win him over and convince him to study with us anyway." 

" I will consider it, boy," Chade repeated. He dug into his share of the food, apparently done arguing with me. " That is not why I came down here, though I am glad to see that you've regained strength enough to try to argue with me. Fool, I have been doing some research and I thought that you might be of some help. Fitz reported, some time ago, that he had seen a tattoo on the Narcheska's back, one of serpants and dragons done in multiple colours and reaching from shoulders to waist. It does not seem to have any relation to the tattoos that signify clan, nor womanhood, nor their worship of El. Have you ever come across such a custom? Fitz mentioned that it seemed to be causing her significant pain, so it was probably quite recently done." 

The Fool had been pushing her food about her plate, but turned to stare at Chade as he described the tattoo. She blinked her eyes once, and hmmed as though in thought, " Tattooing in the Outislands is a common enough practice, but her whole back you say? No, I can't say that I have." 

" Chade, don't change the subject." I frowned at him, I knew not whether his pride or his curiosity was my enemy here. "I am glad to hear that you will consider joining us at the Skill Tower, but just considering isn't enough. The Skillmaster has authority over matters concerning the Skill, and your absense would greatly weaken our coterie. Please join us, we should be practicing to use the Skill together as a unit. I did not hear you promise to cease your private experimentation either." 

" My experiments will go on, Fitz. But, as to my joining your lessons, well, if you are going to be so stubborn about it, then I suppose I have no choice." I could tell that he was pleased, despite his gruff demeanor, to have me beg for his agreement. My pride was a small thing compared to his safety, though, and I did not regret the manipulation. 

"Be careful then, if you must continue. Do not trust the magic and do not give in to it." I resigned myself to my partial victory. 

" I shall be careful, Fitz. Really, I think you are too cautious, but I will tread with care. I know that we are delving into unexplored territory." Far from instilling caution in him, I think that it excited him.

I changed the subject, " Tell me what has been going on in Buckkeep while I've recovered. Three Piebalds were killed, as you know, but there may have been more in town. Have there been any disturbances? Any threats?" 

Chade took a sip of tea, " Hardly a matter to speak of over lunch, Fitz, perhaps if you're feeling up to it, we could go to my old workroom this evening and chat." 

" Anything you would say to me, you can say infront of the Fool." 

Chade looked peeved, " You are my apprentice, boy, you should know that the matters we discuss are secrets best not spoken in any company save eachother." 

" And the Queen, " I added, " and Dutiful when he is old enough. And I am not your apprentice anymore, Chade." 

" Journeyman, then." Chade flapped a hand, dismissing my objection, " Nevertheless, these things are better discussed in privacy." 

I glanced at the Fool to see his reaction to this rudeness, but she was barely paying attention and seemed lost in thought. I turned my attention back to Chade, " Allow me to report to you, then. Since the Fool was there, he can add the details that I missed during my fight with Laudwine." 

"Hm... Very well, I have longed for a proper picture of the events. Report then, boy." Chade leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. I think that he was pleased that I hadn't argued being his journeyman assassin. I supposed that I could not - had I not just killed for my Prince? So, I launched into my telling beginning with having been woken by Dutiful's skilled shout. I paused many times to sip my tea, and my telling was foggy when I reached the points where my battle rage took me, but Chade nodded and listened as he had when I was a boy, seated by his feet at the hearth, his chin resting on his fingertips. 

" And then I remember little, save a few hazy images as I was transported back to the keep," I concluded. 

" Interesting, that the other two did not have their witted companions with them." 

" They may have, but I doubt any animal would have stood by while his partner was killed. Perhaps they were unbonded." 

" Perhaps, or perhaps their animals are out there still. Gilly has not found any suspicious rodents in the passageways to my knowledge." 

" That's good, but we should still be wary." 

" That we should, " Chade agreed, " and that reminds me. Your sword has been recovered and is waiting for you in the workroom. I say again, I do not understand why you persist in using that stuffy servant's room. The workroom is yours to do with what you like. I'm sure the bed would be more comfortable, at least, and you need not fear keeping a few more posessions that would be inappropriate for a servant." 

" Thank you for the offer, Chade, but it just wouldn't feel right. That room has always been yours." 

" Well, if you change your mind, feel free." Chade reached over and clasped one bony, old hand over mine, " It's good to have you back, Fitz." 

" Thank you." I said, with a sinking heart. I did not relish the secrets, nor did I enjoy killing for my Prince. I had simply protected the boy without thinking, and fighting in battle was one thing, I would not return to the furtive assassinations of my boyhood. 

Chade looked at the Fool, " Well? Have you anything to add to Fitz's report?" 

The Fool blinked at Chade, " Have I anything to add?" 

Chade frowned, wary of some jester's trick, " Have you?" 

" Ah, no." She shook her head, " Fitz has told everything that needed telling." 

Chade nodded then rose from the table, stretching, " Good. I think that I will check on matters with Dutiful. Fitz, meet me in the workroom tonight and I will give you my report of the goings on at Buckkeep in the last week. In the mean time, focus on recovering your strength." 

" I will." Being up and conversing had wearied me more than I'd expected. 

With another nod for me, Chade disappeared back into his spider web of passages. I sighed and looked at the cooling soup in my bowl. It was not very appetizing. 

The Fool smiled at the look on my face and slid her mostly untouched plate over to me. Her thoughts seemed very far away. " Chade. He juggles more rumors and intrigue than I ever juggled balls in King Shrewd's court." 

" That he does. I think he has a finger in every pie in the Six Duchies." I began eating what I'd been given, if she wasn't sure she wouldn't have offered, and it looked infinitely better than the mush I had been subsisting on. 

" He reminds me a bit of myself." 

" Of you?" I raised my brows, " How?" 

" He has his web before him, " The Fool explained, " And he pulls the strings with subtle influences or even larger action as the situation warrents it, in order to bring about the events that he wishes to happen. He manipulates the people of the court and other people of interest according to his vision for the Six Duchies. It is not so different from what I do with you. I see the paths before me, even now, like rays of light from the stars. And you are the sun, Fitzy, and you shine brightest of all. Possible futures radiate from you, and with every moment, every decision you make, they change. Each of those paths has a thousand more and so on. It's dizying. But unlike Chade, my vision is for the whole world, and I will influence your decisions that will in turn affect the whole of time. It is an ugly thing that I do to you." 

" Because you are the White Prophet and I am the Catalyst." I was still not sure if I believed it. 

" Exactly... Fitz, I am sorry. I am sorry that I must use you in this way and that I continue to keep you alive while the whole of time seeks to eliminate you." 

" You're sorry that you keep me alive?" 

" Don't be foolish, Fitzy, that's my job." 

" Not any more. Apparently now you're a Jamailian noble. All you do is strut about court and play stones." 

" True enough. And that is foolish enough." 

" I still don't know how I feel about being healed by the Skill." I answered honestly, " But I am grateful to be alive." 

The Fool smiled, sadly, " I could hear the wolves calling to you. You wanted to join Nighteyes." 

" That is true. There will always be a part of me that longs for his company again, but what I wanted was not death but peace." 

" There will be little of that for you, in times to come. I am sorry for that. As I have said, being the pebble that knocks the wheel from its track is seldom a pleasant experience for the pebble. Nevertheless, I will do my best to steer time towards the future that leads to your happiness." 

" Are you alright? You've been behaving strangely this morning and I thought that you hit your head during our fight with the Piebalds." 

The Fool smiled, amusedly, " I'm quite alright, but thank you." 

" Why do you talk like that?" I asked, suddenly. 

" Like what?" The Fool seemed startled back into reality. 

" When you speak to me, even when we're alone, you sound like the Fool, like a man." 

" To you, I will always be the Fool, Fitzy." 

" But it's not real." 

"Duchy-tongue is not my first language. Would you have me speak in the language of my childhood as well? For that too, is something I have changed." 

" But you are not only the Fool. Even when I think of you, it feels strange to call you the Fool and think of you as a woman." 

" Then don't." 

" That's impossible, now!" 

" Is it? Fitz, you are struggling needlessly. I think that you will find the solution when you are ready. Until then, I am the Fool and you may think of me in whatever way pleases you the best." 

I accepted the end to that conversation and finished my food. It was much better than what I'd been eating lately, even if it was cold, and I ate every bite. 


	10. Children

Chapter 10

The Fool was pensive for the remainder of lunch, and excused herself as soon as I had finished eating to disappear into her bedchamber. I saw the wisdom in emulating her decision and made my shaky way back to my own room where I collapsed upon my bed without bothering to undress. I was pleasantly full and I fell into sleep with ease. 

In my dream, I was dipping tapers. Rather, Nettle was dipping tapers, I realized. There was shouting in the background that she was doing her best to ignore by humming a little tune. It wasn't working, though, and I could feel her distress. _What's the matter?_ I asked, gently. 

Nettle still startled, tensing. She relaxed again quickly and resumed her work, _Shadow Wolf! You shouldn't scare me like that! Where have you been?_

_I was injured, but I'm better now. What is troubling you?_

_Mother is scolding father again for drinking so much. It's been two weeks since he's come home and I don't think he's been sober more than twice._ Nettle dipped her candles into a bucket of cold water to harden the wax. _I don't know what to do! You said that everything would be fine, but it hasn't been, Shadow Wolf! It's been worse than ever!_

I was alarmed to feel tears spring to her eyes. _It will get better. I'm sure your mother will bully him out of the bottle soon._

_What could have upset him so? Swift is home. I don't understand and no one will tell me anything!_

_Just be patient and be strong, my dear._ I wished that I could give her some better advice, _If you need me, just reach out to me. I'll do what I can to help._

_I don't know what good it would do. You're not actually here._

That stung a bit, but I deserved it, _It will give you someone to talk to, at least._

_I suppose you're right. I'm sorry, Shadow Wolf! I don't mean to be rude, I am glad that you're back. It's been very lonely with you gone and my parents quarreling. My brothers all escape outside to the stables while I'm stuck making candles._

_What would you like to be doing instead?_

_I'd like to be a member of the Queen's guard._ Nettle answered, instantly, _I want to do something useful and exciting instead of just waiting to be married off._

_Married off?_ I was getting old, _Surely you're too young for that._

_I am not a child, Shadow Wolf! It will be quite a wait though. I can't imagine that any boy would want someone as stubborn and hot headed as me. Even if he did, my father would scare them off. Until then, though, I'm stuck with the bees._

_You're a lovely girl, and boys will appreciate that you have a mind of your own._

_Thank you, it's kind of you to say that. Still, I do not wish to end up like my mother. It seems that all she does is shout and cry these days._

_No doubt things have been difficult for her, with Swift's disappearance and your father so upset. I can tell that you're doing what you can to make things easier for her, and I'm sure she appreciates it._

Nettle sighed, _Speaking of which, I suppose that I should start cooking dinner. The boys eat like a pack of wolves! Not that that's a bad thing._

And just like that, I was cut off from her thoughts and was allowed to fall into my own dreams. They were mercifully free of dragons, and when I awoke, I spent some time laying in bed, waiting for a Skill-headache that never came. The room was dark, but someone, most likely the Fool, or possibly Chade come to see why I had not been to the workroom, had been kind enough to light a taper for me. I thought of my daughter and wished that I could do something to ease her unhappiness. It made me feel even worse to know that I was the cause of it. Burrich had been drinking, heavily apparently, and I knew I should have expected that. Poor Molly, still being hurt by my secrets after all these years. With a melancholy spirit, I exited my chamber. There was no sign of the Fool, though there was evidence that a serving boy had tidied up and replentished the firewood. I should find out the lad's name one day and thank him, since he had essentially taken over my duties as Lord Golden's man. No wonder there were rumors about my actual purpose if I was doing this poor a job of pretending to be a servant.

My legs were shaking by the time I had completed a slow circuit about the room, making sure that all was as it should be, and I sat briefly to catch my breath. The return to Buckkeep had reawakened all of my old paranoia, and I thought whistfully of my cottage. Not mine any more. I had burned every trace of myself from that place. Still, I wished that I could leave and return to that simple life of tending my garden with Nighteyes laying under a tree and stalking the chickens with his keen eyes. A pang of loneliness shot through my heart at the thought of Nighteyes. If I had not returned here, would he live still? Would I be scratching his ears as we relaxed by the fire? Dutiful would probably be dead, I thought, and Peladine would have taken his body. Why did it fall on me? Why could it not be someone else who had to do the secret tasks that kept the Farseer throne from falling? I sighed, bitterly, and rose once more. I had no heart to see Chade and thus bury myself even deeper in the secrets and conspiracies of the court. I could go back to bed and plead weariness if questioned about my absense. 

But just because I ignored them, did not mean that the problems would go away. I had learned that as a boy when I had chosen to be an oarsman aboard the warship Rurisk rather than distributing poison, hidden in loaves of bread, to the Forged ones that haunted our lands. To Chade, that task had fallen, and he had done it despite his age and the multitude of other tasks before him. I was like a boy complaining about his chores, I realized. Did I not want Dutiful to reign in a time of peace and plenty? If I wanted it, I had to make it happen. That did not make the tasks I must do to facilitate his reign any easier, though, and I trudged up the stairs to Chade's workroom with a heavy heart. 

I had to stop frequently in my climb. Lunch and my nap had somewhat restored me, but it still took a great amount of effort to move my weakened body and there were far too many stairs. Why the spy passsages had been designed in such a winding way was beyond me. Surely, even if they encorporated the old servant's stairs, a determined mind and discreet stoneworkers could have made them easier to navigate. I had to bend my back to avoid bumping my head for some of the journey, and by the time I emerged into the workroom, I was panting for breath and my body ached as though I'd fought a battle. I groaned. Chade wasn't even there. 

I looked around the room. Very little had changed since I'd been there last. My sword was propped up next to the bed as promised. I crossed to the work table and examined the multitude of scraps of parchment and scrolls that were layed out. Chade had apparently been studying Skill healing in earnest since their so-called success with me, and I saw scrolls of various ages that detailed training exercises for Solos. Some had been meticulously re-copied in Chade's own hand. I found a diary of Chade's efforts in learning the Skill, too. As he did with all of his experiments, he kept detailed notes, and I could feel his frustration despite his attempts to remain impartial in the documents. No matter how I felt about Chade experimenting with the Farseer magic, my heart went out to him. He had been denied the chance to learn in his youth, and now, at the end of his years, he had finally succeeded in unlocking his magic apparently too late. I would help him as best as I could, but his eagerness to learn could be even more dangerous than usual when combined with the natural alure of the Skill. 

Thick shuffled into the room from behind the wine rack, arms laden with firewood, while I was examining a scroll about scrying. I had long suspected that Chade used that magic, and it was interesting to learn more about it. Thick froze when he saw me and his little eyes narrowed, suspiciously. I truly had not made any progress in winning his trust. I turned back to my reading and after a few moments I heard him go back to his tasks. The little man had gotten pudgier, and his clothes were new, if not in the best of shape. Chade must have begun my work for me. I was not sure that it was a good thing, but I was happy that Thick was better taken care of. 

Chade came in while Thick was replentishing our supply of candles. " Ah, Fitz, good! I wasn't sure that you would feel up to joining me this evening." He took his customary seat and I got up from the table to join him. Chade was dressed in his now usual finery. It was hard to imagine that he had once worn plain, gray woolen robes. Court life agreed with him, and he never seemed more alive than when there was some sort of political incident or mystery to investigate. By the way his eyes gleamed, I gathered that Buckkeep had not been a quiet place while I had been recovering. 

" Truthfully, it would be nice to be asleep. My curiosity has overcome my weariness, however. Would you mind telling me what has been happening in Buckkeep since Laundwine was killed? Have the Piebalds retaliated in any way?" 

Chade sighed and rose, " We may as well have tea. We have much to discuss." He set a kettle of water to boil and resumed his seat, " You were correct in your speculation that there were more Piebalds than the three you did away with hiding in Buckeep Town, or at least nearby. The day after the attack, the Queen received a scroll signed only with the usual drawing of a piebald horse. It demanded that the Queen release Lord Golden and his manservant to them so that justice could be dealt. Naturally, we did nothing. The tale has been spread throughout the court that you and Lord Golden chanced upon the Prince and Lord Civil being attacked by theives, and that you were injured while saving their lives. You've become quite the hero. Two days later, they had posted notices revealing an entire family of minor nobility as having the wit." 

" What did you do?" 

" The Queen has taken them into her protection and has offered to have them relocated, if they wish. For now, they seem to be quite delighted at visiting court, despite the circumstances." 

" Have they made any further threats?" 

" Let me finish, boy. You will have your answers soon enough if you quit interrupting me. After their first attempt at using bloodshed to convince us to give you up had failed, they grew wiser. Another family of witted ones was revealed, but this time they did not wait for the common folk to turn against them. The Queen's guard was sent out, but they found the family's home burnt to the ground. The occupants had been bound and likely perished from the smoke. Their animal companions were killed as well." 

I was horrified, " Who were they?" 

" No one with any political connections. Just a family of farmers. Somehow that made it all the more horrible that they should have been caught up in all of this. This happened at about the time when fever took you and we realized that your injuries were far more grave than we had initially thought. A scroll came the next day, repeating their request to have you turned over to them. Again we did nothing, and the deaths have continued. Why would the Piebalds kill off their own kind? Some of the dukes are even pleased since it makes their work that much less. Perhaps to show us how easily the dukes would turn on their prince if they realized he was witted. Still, to kill so many of their people makes little sense. They seemed to realize that too, because their latest attack was carried out against a wealthy land owner in a town not far from where you'd lived. He had apparently been raising accusations that his neighbor had been using the wit to steal the messages from his pidgeons. That neighbor was put to death, ostensibly for assault, and shortly after, the accuser was found in his barn, cut into quarters. The Piebalds left a message with the body the jist of which was that those who stood against them would be shown no mercy." 

" Not all of the witted side with the Piebalds. Any who refuse to join them are considered an enemy. Have there been any more scrolls sent to the Queen?" 

Chade's hand hovered over his jars of tea herbs as he selected which blend to brew, " Just one, received this morning. It asked, ' How many must die before you will let justice be done?' And went on to say, ' If you will not surrender them to us, then we will take yours from you in their stead.'" 

My heart went cold, " Do you think they will attempt to steal Dutiful again?"

" I have kept him confined to the keep for now. His excuse is that he wishes to focus on his studies of the history of the Outislands. Of course, some of the nobles complain when it has prevented them from riding with the Prince, but it is a small price to pay." 

" And what of Civil?" 

" Sent home for his mother's funeral with the Queen's own guards as an escort. He returned not long ago, and has likewise been kept confined. The Bresinga manor and grounds will be maintained by the staff and Civil will remain here at court until such time as he is able to take on the responsibilities of managing his estate." 

It was a good solution. Civil would be kept in a very comfortable prison with none of the nobility the wiser. I was still uneasy though, and resolved to keep a close eye on the boy. Chade poured the tea, and I sat for a time in silence as I thought over all that he had told me. The Piebalds were not defeated by the loss of their leader, and they were determined to have revenge. So many lives lost for my sake. It made me feel ill. We were alone, I noticed. Thick must have let himself out when he had finished his chores. "What could we do to stop them?" 

" Until they make a move that leaves them vulnerable to attack, I am afraid that there is little that we can do. I have done my best to trace their messages, but to no avail. I don't like it, but we will simply have to wait for them to reveal themselves so that we can make a move against them." 

I stared into the depths of my tea cup. What did the Piebalds hope to accomplish if they took Dutiful now? Peladine was gone, and I doubted that any other could enter his body without inhabiting the body of an animal bonded to Dutiful. I would have to caution him against forming a wit bond until all of this was resolved, though I doubted that he would be inclined to. The loss of his cat had cut him deeply. " Though it pains me that the deaths must go on, I can see the wisdom in that. Could you not pretend to release me, though? I could go armed, perhaps with one of the powders that is fatal if inhaled." 

Chade shook his head, " We have no idea how many we are dealing with. Even if you successfully killed all who came to take you, as we have seen, more could take their places." 

I sighed and sipped the tea. We were in an impossible situation. " I just hate waiting while people are dying." 

" Could you try the Skill as Verity did against the Red-Ship raiders? Convince the Piebalds to give up this madness?" 

" I don't know if I could. Verity was able to somehow select the captains and crews of the ships from all of the other minds in the current. I suppose it makes sense that a Piebald could similarly be selected, but I haven't a clue how to begin." 

" Hm." Chade stroked his chin in thought, " I will see what I can find in the old scrolls. If this continues it may be our only chance." 

"Very well, Chade, but please do not attempt it on your own. You should start by reaching out with the Skill to either myself or Dutiful." 

" Yes, yes, you and your paranoia, Fitz. Though, I suppose it is my own fault for instilling so much caution in you. Speaking of which, you should take care when wandering about the keep, you are much changed."

I was amused at his disparagement and then encouragement of my caution, " I know, I will probably spend the next few days up here or in my chamber. Truly, I do not think that I would be able to do more than that anyway." 

" Hmm.. Very well. It is unfortunate, but if that is the path you wish to take then I will not argue. You have always enjoyed solitude far more than I. I have a number of scrolls that you could translate, if wish. Something to keep the mind busy. If you're feeling up to it, you could also look in on Civil and some of the servants to check for any suspicious activity. I would not put it past the Piebalds to try to sneak a spy into our midst." 

" I will do that. Have we acquired any new staff in the last few weeks?" 

" Two lady's maids and two kitchen girls. It would not hurt to observe their mistresses and acquaintances as well. I will prepare you a list of names. If any seem suspicious, I trust that you will do what needs to be done." 

My heart sank, " I will." 

Chade smiled broadly at me. It deepened the lines in his face but made his green eyes shine, and I was once again aware of how old my mentor had grown. He had been an old man when I was first apprenticed to him and it had been about 25 years since then. " It is good to have you back," he said again. It was rare for Chade to be so sentimental; I supposed that my near death must have scared him more than I thought. After all, I was his great nephew and, in some ways, as close to a son as he would ever have.

I tried to comfort him, " Don't worry, Chade. Unless these Piebalds get their way, I won't be going anywhere, and I don't plan on letting them win." 

" See that you don't, boy." Chade rose, back to his old self again, " Now, I am almost late for a meeting with the Dukes of Shoaks and Farrow. They are champing at the bit to join in Bingtown's war with Chalced, and I need to find a way to please their appetites for war without appearing to have allied completely with Bingtown, lest the Outislanders hear word of it and take offence." 

" I wonder why the Outislanders are so against us siding with Bingtown." 

" Who knows! It would be interesting to find out, but regardless, I will not be bullied by them into displeasing my dukes. Many of them are not as eager for this alliance as we are." 

I nodded, " Good luck, then, Chade." 

" Fah! Good luck to them. I've been doing this for years, Fitz. They will leave our meeting wondering why they were ever displeased in the first place." And with that, he was gone. Councilor Chade, indeed. It worried me that he called them his dukes, rather than Kettricken's or Dutiful's, but I supposed that he must feel some sort of claim after the many years he had played strategist. I took myself to the work table and resumed my perusal of his scrolls until the writing began to blur before my eyes. There really were far too many stairs between the workroom and my servant's chamber, and I decided to make use of Chade's large bed, at least for one night. 

One night turned into several, and I reverted to keeping a wolflike pattern to my days that agreed well with me. I was most active in the hours preceeding dawn and dusk, and for the rest of the days and nights I either slept or worked on translating Chade's scrolls. Many delt with the legends of Icefyre and several pertained to the Skill. My dreams were mercifully my own, though I thought that I occasionally felt something lurking outside of my walls. At those times I would strengthen those walls and make myself busy with anything to avoid thinking about those whirling copper eyes. Thick brought my food, and replentished the firewood as was his duty. I reminded myself that I ought to start winning his loyalty for the Prince, and I worried that he was becoming far too attached to Chade. With that thought in mind, I ventured down to my servant's room shortly before dawn, intent on retrieving Thick's whistle from the Fool. 

I opened my door to the sounds of Lord Golden complaining loudly to an unfortunate serving boy about a rat in his chambers. I shook my head to myself at his theatrics. The Fool seemed to take a great amount of pleasure in playing the roles that she did. I watched as the wide eyed lad was sent scurrying from the room. Lord Golden sighed and barred the door behind him before turning to me. The Fool looked tired, but gave me a small smile, " Fitz! I'd begun to think that Chade had locked you up there for good." 

I was chagrined to realize that I had indeed disappeared without a word to my friend, " I'm sorry, Fool. It was thoughtless of me not to inform you that I would be staying in the workroom. I hadn't exactly planned on it, it just sort of happened and I lost track of my days." 

" Ah well, no harm done. You are forgiven." The Fool's smile widened, and she moved to sit cross-legged in her cushioned chair. " What have you been doing with your hours these last few days, if I may be privy to such secrets?" 

" No secrets. Mostly, I have been translating some old scrolls that Chade has managed to procure regarding Icefyre. They are all very vague to me, and I have not found any information that would be useful to the Prince's quest. None even confirm that it is a dragon at all that is buried in the ice. For all we know, it could be some poor sea-creature that the Prince is to hunt." 

" Icefyre is real. That much I know." The Fool's smile vanished, to be replaced by a rather doleful look. 

" How? Have you seen the thing?" 

Her gaze fixed on a distance beyond me, " Not seen, as you would call it. As a child, in my dreaming days, often my Dreams would show me dragons. Of late, I have been assailed by such dreams again, though I know not what they mean just yet. What I do... It is rather like my carving in a way. My dreams and visions would show me events in riddles and pieces, suggestions of what will be. Then, as in my carving, I take up my tools and begin to shape the future, studying the innumerable possible paths and feeling out where best to take action. A cut here, a bit of sanding there. Now it is easy to look back on my dreams and say ' yes, I can see now that Icefyre's existance was foretold. I dreamed it when I was 8 years old' but to look at my dreams then, I would not have been able to tell you precisely what they meant." 

" That doesn't seem very helpful." 

The Fool laughed, " No, I suppose not. What I can tell you is this: Icefyre must live. As you have wakened the stone dragons to rise up against the Red-Ships, so too must you wake Icefyre. I told you once, what would happen if the Red-Ships had prevailed. Forging would become sport, a man's life would become little more than currency. Depravity would take hold of men's hearts and make them at best indifferent to the suffering of others. That was one possible path for this cycle to take. Thanks to you, it was avoided. Now we come again to a turning point in time. If we allow dragons to be eliminated from the world, then man kind's ambitions will be unchecked. So sure of their superiority they will impose their will upon the very Earth to shape it to their desires. Ignorant of what their greed will wreak, they will grow in number and drain the Earth to its bones. Animals will become scarce, their homes and their food and their flesh devoured by men. Wars will be fought over what little remains, and soon humans too, will be gone from this world. I cannot allow that to happen." 

" All this you know from a dream?" 

" Yes." She fixed her amber gaze on me, challenging me to doubt her. Even after all these years, it was still difficult to meet her eyes, but I stubbornly refused to look away. She smiled, sadly, and dropped her gaze first, " I dream now as I have not since I was a child. I have recorded them. One day I will let you read them and we will see if I dreamed true." 

" If the Prince doesn't kill Icefyre, then he will not be able to win the Narcheska. We will have war with the Outislands again, sooner or later." 

The Fool nodded, " That is one possible path. Another is that if Icefyre is killed, the other clans will be outraged that the 'farmer prince' slew their dragon. You will have war with the Outislands sooner rather than later." 

" So either way, there is war with the Outislands." 

" Not necessarily. There are many possible outcomes and a few choice words or actions will guide the future to one or the other of those." 

" Which is where I come in." I was beginning to understand how this White Prophet business worked. 

" Precisely. You cannot let the prince kill Icefyre. A war with the Outislands is a small price compared to the downfall of all humanity." 

" When you put it like that, yes, but you said that there are many paths. How do you know that there isn't a path where Icefyre is slain and humanity continues on?" 

" The return, or not, of dragons is a major turning point in time. I have dreamed the future without dragons. My dreams and many other prophecies by past Whites have all concluded the same." 

" But you said that it's impossible to predict exactly what those dreams mean until the events take place." 

The Fool sighed, " I know, Fitz, and I know, too, that it is difficult for you to accept. Please trust me. I would not steer you down this path if I was not absolutely certain. I can feel it." 

" I don't know how I can possibly stop them. Dutiful has given his word that he will kill Icefyre, and Chade would never agree to sparing him if it meant that his carefully wrought negotiations would come to nothing." 

The Fool looked at me, her pupils were so wide that her eyes looked as black as mine. I wondered if she had taken smoke, but Lord Golden had always abstained from that vice, " Ally with Bingtown." 

" What?" 

" Ally with Bingtown. Free Icefyre to please Tintaglia on the condition that she aid you if the Outislanders should object. She would consider them her enemy too, if the stood in her way. As you said to me some days ago, the Rainwilders could tend the young dragons for a time and our forces could deal with the Chalcedeans. The citizens newly formed Pirate Isles have no love for Chalced, so surely they would relish the chance to join in the fray. This would free her to come to our aid!" The Fool was enthusiastic as she spoke, eyes following some path that I could not see. 

" I would still rather not see another war, Fool. There must be another way." 

My objection deflated her spirits and she sunk back into her chair, nodding. " You are right about that. I apologize. Before I steer you down any path, I should consider all of the possible options. I just became so hopeful that there was another way..." She trailed off. 

" I understand, Fool." I was not truly sure that I did, though. All of this talk of possible futures and paths and dreams was too much philosophy for me. It ran contrary to all that I had learned being bonded to Nighteyes. Do not waste time worrying about a future that may never come to pass. 

" Do you?" The Fool asked, sadly. Her eyes had regained their normal honey colour and the gaze that she fixed on me was full of a fear that I could not grasp. She exhaled and I saw that fear become resignation. I wished I knew what had caused it, but the Fool spoke before I could ask, " I apologize, Fitz. I carried the conversation off in a direction that is neither here nor there. Did you come seeking something?" 

" Yes, actually. I came to ask you about Thick's whistle. Have you finished it?" 

" Oh, yes, of course." The Fool rose and disappeared into her bedchamber. When she returned, she deposited into my hands, a red whistle on a green string. It was beautifully done, and the carvings were more intricate than I had ever seen on a child's toy. For a moment I was jealous. It was decorated with birds that sang on a branch. They were so realisitc that I would not have been surprised to see one take flight. 

" It's beautiful." I tore my eyes from the piece of art to take in the Fool's pleased smile. " I'm sure that Thick will love it." 

She must have read something of my jealousy in my tone because she promised me, " I am working on something for you as well. I began it back in your cottage and you will have it when it is done" 

" Thank you." I smiled. " If it was made by your hand then I'm sure that it will be breathtaking. I look forward to it greatly." 

A blush suffused the Fool's cheeks, and she ducked her head, modestly, " I hope that it will meet your expectations." 

" I'm sure it will." 

" Stay there." The Fool commanded, and disappeared again. I had expected perhaps a carving, but she returned with my shaving blade, an ewer, a basin, and a towel. I chuckled. She seemed to have made my beard her personal enemy in life. She set some water to heat by the fire, then moved her chair closer to mine so that she could sit directly before me and brought the table closer as well. " Would you like a bath as well? I can ask a serving boy to bring a tub and hot water." 

I was abruptly uncomfortably aware of how long it had been since I'd bathed, " That would be nice." I blushed. 

She nodded, " Alright." 

In short order, my bath was prepared. It was strangely embarrassing, and I thought perhaps that I should have made a trip to the steams instead. The Fool left while I undressed and clambered into the tub, but returned again with scented oils and soaps. I pulled a towel into the bath to preserve my modesty. " Fool!" I protested. 

" Relax. I'm just leaving these here for you." She left the oils and soaps within reach then took the time to lay me out a fresh set of clothes before leaving again. I could have sworn I saw her smiling amusedly to herself at my discomfiture and I glared at her back until she was out of sight. 

It was good to be clean again, I reflected, as I scrubbed the old sweat from my body. The heat seeped into my bones and I sighed, enjoying the sensation as my aches melted away. I relaxed, taking my time with the bath. My hair was the most difficult part, as it tangled together into an impossible mess, but I managed well enough. I leaned back in the tub and shut my eyes. 

**_There you are._** Copper eyes stared back at me and I gasped, slamming my walls up again and bolting upright in the bath. I could sense her amusement as she lurked outside my walls. I could sense then, too, that she could force her way past my defenses if she chose to. The thought made me cold, despite the still-warm water, and I got out of the tub, doing my best to banish her from my mind. 

The Fool returned, apparently having heard me dressing, as I was lacing up my shirt. I could sense the presence in my mind retreat partially, but she was not gone. Simply lurking in the corners of my awareness. I sat down in my chair, shakily. The Fool retrieved the warm water and poured it into the basin. " Are you alright?" 

" I'm fine." How to describe what I had experienced? " Just a bit more tired than I expected." 

The Fool nodded, accepting my explanation, " You have not yet regained your full strength." She studied me carefully, ungloved her right hand, then took out a small pair of shears. My beard had grown too long to shave without trimming it first. It was a time consuming thing, and the Fool took more time with it than I would have. When the time came for shaving, she proceeded carefully and methodically. I did not feel a tug where the old scar down my cheek was and I gradually relaxed into the process. The Fool would not cut me. 

" There!" She proclaimed at last, leaning back to admire her handiwork. She reached out and cupped her ungloved hand to the side of my face, rubbing a thumb over the smooth skin, " It's incredible. I can see your younger self much more clearly in you now. You look like your father. Patience had good taste." 

" It's just a shave." 

" Just a shave? Fitz, your scars are gone. Do you not recall?" 

" What?" My eyes widened, and, seeing my confusion, the Fool handed me a small mirror. Had I not been sitting, I think that I would have fallen, for the world suddenly tilted around me. I stared into the glass, not believing what I saw. The scar that had marred the side of my cheek was gone. My nose was straight for the first time in years. My badgerlock was growing in dark. The Fool took the mirror from me before I could drop it. 

" We thought you knew. The Skill-healing, it seems to have undone all of your old hurts as well. 

" I didn't know..." I said, faintly. 

" Are you alright?" The Fool looked into my face, worriedly. 

" I don't know. I'm shocked. Why would you do this to me? I cannot explain this." 

" We did not. We thought that you knew and guided the healing yourself." 

" No, I would never..." I fingered the smooth skin of my face and then examined my shoulder where a forged one had bitten the flesh away, leaving a puckered scar. It was gone. How had I not noticed that in the bath? My mind reeled. I stretched my arm up and back. The scar where an arrow head had festered in my back no longer pulled. It was gone. Suddenly other things made sense as well. Chade welcoming me back, his comments about me using his workroom and my chosing solitude. He thought that I was resuming my job as apprentice assassin. Journeyman assassin, I corrected myself ruefully. He expected me to take up his old residence in the walls of the keep. I groaned and leaned forwards, propping my head up in my hands, elbows braced on my knees. 

The Fool placed a hand on my shoulder, comfortingly, " Fitz...?" 

I spoke into my hands, "I cannot explain this away, Fool. My badgerlock, maybe, I can dye black and claim vanity, but my nose, my scars... All will mark the changes. Hap will know instantly and wonder. And you say I resemble my father? Others are sure to mark the resemblance as well! Eda and El in a tangle!" My breathing had become rapid and I sought to calm my panic. What was I going to do? 

The cold hand on my shoulder vanished and I heard the Fool stand decisively. She moved to stand behind me and began working the knots out of my hair. I barked a laugh that had a hysteric tinge to it. My life was falling apart again and the Fool was brushing out my hair. " I am skilled in the application of paints and cosmetics, " She offered, " Do dye your badgerlock. I could do my best to make it appear as though your scars are still there, or perhaps that they have been covered by some other paint. It would be in keeping with Lord Golden's image to play with the appearance of his servant." 

" It would work for a time, Fool, but not for long." I relaxed despite myself as the brush began to move more smoothly through my hair, " What if you and I were parted, and you could not help me with the paints? What if it was smudged in a fight, or what if I went out in the rain? It would never work." I shook my head. 

" Perhaps with the Skill you could reverse the changes? I admit, I am a bit reluctant to suggest such a drastic solution..." The Fool set the brush down and slid her fingers through my hair before tieing it back with a ribbon. " You have lovely hair, Fitz. It's finer than most Buck men's." 

My heart gave a pang as I remembered a similar compliment from Molly. I sighed, " It is not my hair that I'm concerned with at the moment, Fool." 

The Fool moved to stand before me, and looked down on me consideringly. " Well, let's see, then, if you do not wish to hear any words about your hair. Should I perhaps compose a song likening the colour of your lips to a pink summer rose? A ballad to the night sky reflected in your eyes?"

I cut my old friend off before she could burst into song. " Be serious, Fool." 

" I am a Fool. What call have I to be serious?" She stared down at me challengingly, but capitulated at a dark look from me. She sighed, sitting down again in her chair and I felt a small pang of regret at having ended her merriment, inapprorpriate though it was. " Forgive me, Fitzy. I know that you are concerned for your identity as Tom Badgerlock, but I find myself unable to control my joy at seeing you as you may have been, had I but allowed you to live your life in peace." 

I shook my head, " There was never any peace for me in this life. Had you not known me, Regal would no doubt have had his way and quietly done away with me. I have long suspected your role in King Shrewd taking notice of me. You were there that day, when Shrewd decided to make a weapon of me. Did you prompt him to come into the Great Hall with Regal?" The Fool inclined her head wordlessly, and I realized that I was not helping. " What I'm trying to say is, well, even if life was not easy back then, it was made easier by having a friend." 

The Fool smiled and looked up at me again, " Thank you, Fitz." 

We were interrupted by a loud knocking at the door. It was too insistent to be the polite rap of the serving boy. I stood and, as quickly as I could manage, retreated to my little room. I left the door slightly ajar so that I could listen in more easily. Lord Golden strode to the door and unbarred it before pulling it open and demanding, haughtily, why he was being disturbed at such an ungodly hour. It was Hap. My heart gave a wrench as I listened to him demanding to be admitted to see me, but I dared not reveal myself as I was now. The lad sounded near tears. Lord Golden kindly, but insistently refused him on the grounds that I was still too ill for visitors. I sighed, silently to myself. The boy deserved better from his adoptive father than lies and neglect. I resolved that I would make it up to him.


	11. Repairs

Chapter 11

Chade and I did not work well together, but we managed, somehow, to convince my flesh to take on the appearance of scarring. " Hap came to see me today, but he had to be sent back. I couldn't see him looking like I do now, and I owe him more than that. He's like a son to me." I explained to Chade, when he entered the workroom that afternoon. I could not bring myself to shatter his belief that I had decided to become his student once more. I would assert myself later. For now I was already neck deep in both the Piebald problem and Dutiful's quest. Running away would not solve anything, so for now, I would help him. It took us several attempts simply to join our minds together with the Skill, and then several more to figure out how to go against what my body felt was right. I fed him the Skill, as his own talent was weak still, and we combined our knowledge to guide the changes. It hurt, much like acquiring the actual scars had, but it was made worse by the fact that we had to go so slowly. My body knew that it was wrong, and pain is the body's warning against such things. The scars that we created were only superficial and they were not exact, but they would fool the casual observer. 

" There now, that's done." Chade said, quietly, as he sat back in his chair. He was sweating, but his eyes gleamed with triumph. I was sweating too, from pain as well as exertion. Experimentally, I rolled my shoulders. There was no longer the pull at the muscles where the arrow had pierced me, but I could feel the stiffness of the skin. It would do, and I would no longer have to endure it aching whenever the weather turned cold. I had not realized how much damage I had become accustomed to living with. I had been old before my time, and now I felt young again.

I nodded in satisfaction at Chade, " Yes, it's done. Thank you." 

" Glad to be of service! It was quite a learning experience for me, you know. I wonder if the Skill could be applied to a man's face for the purpose of disguise. Change the bone structure of his face, perhaps the colour of his hair. It is a most intreguing thought. " Chade's mind was already drifting far as he imagined the possibilities for his newfound magic. 

I sought to bring him back to reality, " Chade. As interesting as it is, I think that the body knows how it was meant to be. Going against it was painful for me. I do not think that a man would undergo that willingly when a bit of paint or dye would do the job." 

" True, true..." Chade was still stroking his beard, " Still. In desperate need, a man would do it." 

" Let us take things one step at a time." 

" Fah. You always take the fun out of things. Where has your sense of adventure gone?"

" It has been tempered by my knowledge of the dangers in experimenting with things best left alone." I glared at him. If he had read as many scrolls as he claimed to, and I did not dispute that, then he should be well aware of the dangers lurking in the Skill current and the pull that threatened to capture and devour the unprepared novice. 

" Yes, yes, I am well aware of your opinion of my experiments." Chade dismissed my concerns with a wave of his hand, like so much smoke, " Time was when you would help me with them." 

I suppressed a shudder. Chade's experiments had been no less dangerous in my youth, and had been more likely to end in the small fires and explosions that left their scars on the work bench. I had assisted him then, measuring powders and handing him whatever instrument or container he asked for. I had been young and inexperienced then, even fascinated and amused by whatever concoctions Chade brewed. I knew better now. I said as much. 

" Too much caution, Fitz. Would that we could siphon some of that caution from you and give it to my dukes!" Chade changed the subject, " The Queen has given her tacit blessing to the dukes of Shoaks and Farrow to put pressure on the Chalcedeans, but they seem ready to take up arms in an outright war for no more reason than that the enemy would be Chalced. Honestly. Do they give any thought to what that implies to Bingtown? If they take action while we are still in negotiation, we could come out of the deal with nothing. Bingtown would have what they wanted, why bother with payment or trade agreements when our dukes would send their men out to war for the spirit of it. Do they give any thought to what offence they may be giving to the Outislands? Of course not! All they see is their own border and the chance to push it a little further west. I am at my wits end with those bloodthirsty fools." Chade gesticulated wildly in his exasperation, and he ended his rant with a flourish that nearly upset the glass of wine perched on the table beside him. He snatched it up before it could fall and drank it off in a single, disgusted swallow.

" The Fool seems to think that we should ally with Bingtown. Join our forces to theirs and those of the Pirate Isles against the Chalcedeans, leaving their dragon free to search for Icefyre." 

Chade scoffed," And what makes him so sure that the Bingtown dragon would help the Six Duchies kill another dragon? The members of their delegation seemed much appaled by the Narcheska's challenge." 

I had not thought to broach the subject of freeing Icefyre with Chade yet, if ever, but it seemed that I had little choice," Er, well, no. He also suggested that the Kaempra of the Outislander clans would resent our trying to kill Icefyre. That killing Icefyre might actually spark a war between us and the Outislands." 

" Foolishness. Exactly what I would expect from a fool. Their Narcheska issued the challenge herself. They cannot start a war with us for simply doing what they have asked us to do!" 

Though Chade seemed unimpressed, I sought to further the Fool's point with him," Not all of the clans were present at that challenge, though, and they may not consider it binding." 

" As well as to say that they may not consider the marriage binding, as only the two clans were present for the betrothal. The Hetgurd agreed to offer the Narcheska to Dutiful with each clan aware that such a marriage would mean trade agreements and peace between our people. There is risk to them too, should they fail to uphold their end of the bargain. It has not been so long since they were last defeated in war with us." Chade was not necessarily disagreeing now. I recognized his style of probing of old, when he would lead me through mind problems so that I might reach my own conclusions. 

I thought and fell back into our pattern of working through our information, " True, and the completion of that challenge is a prerequisit for the marriage. They could claim to know nothing of it though. Is it a girl's impulsive challenge, full of minstrel's tales of dragons and quests, or is there more to it? Does she bait us into provoking a war? Yes, it is a risk to them, but it would not take much to excite a lust for revenge." 

" If we refuse the challenge, there is war anyway. If it is a trap, I see no way out of it now that Dutiful has given his word. Truthfully, I see very little to be lost by at least attempting the challenge, and if there is actually something buried beneath the ice, which I very much doubt from what my spy's reports have told me, then it likely died years ago. The challenge is fulfilled, no dragon is destroyed." Chade leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in contemplation. The firelight flickered and made light and shadow dance over his features. 

" The Fool seems to think that Icefyre is real and alive." 

" It seems to me that the Fool thinks far too much about things that do not concern him. And you, you should know better than to discuss Farseer business with an outsider." 

" I think most of Buck has been talking about it, Chade." I reminded him. I hesitated to tell him all that the Fool had revealed to me. It seemed silly now, to speak of prophecies and distant futures. Childish. Or perhaps that was Chade's more pragmatic demeanor influencing me. But were the words that the Fool had given to me mine to repeat? I watched as Gilly climbed up onto the table and began to nose about for scraps, this time the wine glass was tipped, though it was thankfully empty save for a few drops. 

" Off of there, or I'll have you as a new collar on my robe, you sorry little pelt." Chade scolded Gilly who danced and chittered as Chade made to shoo him off the table. He seemed to think it a grand game. 

" The Fool said that Icefyre must live. That it was foretold. If dragons can be returned to the world, then humanity's greed can be kept in check or something to that effect." 

" Return dragons to the world?" Chade righted the glass and glared at Gilly, who gave up on Chade and focused instead on battling his slipper. " Preposterous. I know what he's filling your head with. Portents and prophecies. He may have amused my brother with his riddles and nonsense, but that sort of rubbish has no place in Farseer matters. I know he fancies himself some kind of prophet, but you must not take him seriously, Fitz. Nothing coud survive buried in that chunk of ice and I am honestly skeptical of the existance of this mysterious Bingtown dragon that has appeared out of the blue." 

" We should at least consider it, Chade, " I appealed, " I know that you have spared no effort in the negotiations with the Outislands, but what if the Fool is right? What if it leads to war?" I said nothing of the more far reaching consequenes that the Fool had mentioned. I could tell that Chade would think little of such talk. 

" Don't tell me that you believe him!" Chade exclaimed, " Fitz, it's nonsense. Surely you can see that." 

" He has, at times, seemed to predict things." I hedged. 

" It is all trickery." Chade rose to peruse his scroll rack, " I was, myself, at first fascinated with the idea that a man, a White Prophet, could see the possible futures and shape them to his will. I gave the matter extensive study, and do you know what I found? Religious nonsense." 

" I do not believe that the Fool would lie about something like that. " 

" Let us say that you are right." Chade proposed, plucking scrolls from his collection. I had never been able to work out his system of organizing them, but he always seemed ot know exactly where each scroll belonged. " Icefyre lives, Tintaglia has her mate, and soon there are healthy little dragons in the world once more. Then what? Bingtown has already claimed one dragon as their own and made a bargain with it. If the tales are to be believed, then she aids them in their war with Chalced. Would her young also belong to Bingtown? You can recall the devestation that our Six Duchies dragons visited upon the Outislanders. With a force like that at their beck, Bingtown would crush Chalced easily. Would it stop there though? They could slaughter anyone they chose, turn on the Six Duchies if it suited them. Or what if each dragon allied itself differently and wars were fought with dragons as weapons? The human lives lost on both sides would be great. Countless innocent lives. The dragons may not even ally themselves at all. They are large and powerful creatures. Who is to say that they would not simply eat us all or at the very least our livestock? Fitz, dragons would be a danger to us all. We would not only have war with the Outislands for refusing their challenge, but we would run the risk of being eaten by great scaled beasts. No. Put that foolish notion from your mind." Chade punctuated his point by depositing the pile of scrolls in my lap.

I looked down at them. What Chade said made sense. But the Fool would have no reason to lie, and she seemed to believe whole heartedly that she was the White Prophet and I, her catalyst. Chade spoke again, and this time his voice was gentle as he resumed his seat, " I know that you want to believe your friend, Fitz. I know also that it is a pretty thing to believe in... but it is a disease, Fitz. No more than a disease that drains pigment from the flesh and creates dilusions in the mind of prescience and greatness. Do not feel angry over this. Rather, feel pity for the Fool. He did not deliberately deceive you. He is being deceived by his own mind. I will give thought to what you have said about war and allying with Bingtown, and I will perhaps see what my spies can tell me about the kaempra's opinions of Dutiful's quest. It never hurts to be prepared. Nevertheless, we must stick to the facts on this." 

I continued to stare numbly at the pile of scrolls in my lap, absorbing Chade's words. Only when Chade left did I open the first. It was by a Jamaillian priest of Sa. He was ruthlessly critical of the philosophy of the White Prophets. I had not realized how much I had come to accept the idea of being the Fool's catalyst until I found so many arguments as to why it was not so. I found myself wondering at the vehemence of Chade's disparagement and the number of scrolls he'd collected on the topic. My gaze drifted to the scrying bowl in the corner. Perhaps he was disappointed. Had he tried to divine the future and shape it like a White, or had he perhaps hoped that he could be a catalyst? Somehow, I thought that Chade suited the role of White more than catalyst. He already manipulated people supposedly for the good of the Farseer monarchy. I startled myself with the bitterness hidden in that thought and took a moment to puzzle over whether I was bitter over Chade's or the Fool's attempts to control me. I decided on both.

I brought the scrolls over to the desk. Some of them were very old, and I took the time to recopy those that I did not think would survive another year. The transcriptions of prophecies made little sense to me, though some I could relate back to myself if I squinted. There were many mentions of a bastard child who grew up without his mother and somehow thwarted death. There were countless bastards in the world, though, too. They could easily be referring to Hap or even to Chade. How had the Fool picked me? 

Whites were apparently very rare indeed, because there were not many scrolls for the number of years these writings dated back. From what the Fool had said in the Mountain Kingdom, they were certainly not born every generation. One White Prophet was apparently born 'per age' and I shared the Jamaillian priest's confusion as to what was considered to be an age. Again, I found a scroll that argued that White Prophets were no more than ordinary humans born with a lack of pigment and unsound of mind, even simple, some White children were described. The Fool was certainly not simple. Infact, her razor wit had been her best and only wepaon in court. I sighed. Reading only made my confusion greater. Did I choose to believe the Fool, or did I choose to believe these supposedly learned writers? I did not have confidence that alll that was put to paper was accurate. After all, look at how many histories of the Six Duchies I had created before consigning them to the flames?

I did not have to believe either of them, I decided. It made no difference whether I was a catalyst or not. I would do what I thought was right. That was the resolution that fueled me as I pushed my chair back and rose from the desk, abandoning the remaining scrolls. Gilly darted over to investigate my activities. I gave him a few strokes and he 'dook'ed at me in appreciation. He then went on to wonder about sausages and cheese and whether we were going to play. Would that life could be so simple for us all. Sausages and cheese did sound good, though. Gilly gamboled about my feet, sensing my agreement and eager to find food.

I led Gilly through the spy passages to the pantry entrance. There, we availed ourselves of the richness of Buckkeep's stores, though I made Gilly wait until we were back inside the passages before I would give him his sausage. He lept on it immediately and began to battle with it, squeeking and tussling as he demonstrated to me exactly how he would deal with intruders in his territory. I took that time for a rest, and ate my plunder while leaning against the dusty wall of the passage. It was early evening now and sunlight filtered in through the tiny slits in the walls, illuminating the dust motes that were stirred into the air by our passge. I wondered how the past spies of Buckkeep castle had managed not to give themselves away by sneezing.

Once Gilly had finished demolishing his sausage, we carried on. I had originally been planning on returning to the workroom, but I found myself lacking the motivation to sit down before the scrolls that suggested that my closest friend was mad. Instead, my feet carried me to the spy post by Civil's chamber. I sat on the small stool there, and Gilly was content to curl up beside me. My hopes of finding evidence of communication between Civil and the Piebalds were for naught. I did learn that Civil was an extraordinarily uniteresting fellow, though, and was treated to an hour of his inexperienced playing of the sea-pipes. I shook my head to myself. This boy was guilty of treason. He had nearly ended the prince's life, thereby putting Nettle next in line for the throne. But he was still just a boy. A boy who had been put into the impossible position of chosing between his mother's and his best friend's life. I turned away when Civil began to wipe tears from his eyes. After what the Piebalds had done to his family, I doubted that he had any love left for them. 

I carried on. My tiny windows into the lives of the inhabitants of the castle brought me whispers of gossip and flashes of colour and light in the dimly lit, black stone labarynth. I felt a wave of pity for the Chade of my youth, trapped by his scars and his profession inside the walls of the castle. Here there was carefully concealed candle light and furtive footsteps; out there, there was music and dancing, brightly lit rooms, and people laughing. I thought of how Chade now relished the social occasions of the keep and danced like a man of half his years. I was not the only one the Farseer monarchy had robbed of his youth. It must have been lonely to tread always in the shadows at the edges of the merriment. Worse still, he would have been robbed of ignorance as well. It was not always pleasant to know the secrets that people kept hidden from public view. 

My body ached and I paused often, taking the time to look through peep holes that I would otherwise have passed by. Gilly eventually grew bored and went off on his own. While the frequent stops meant that my progress was slower, it also meant that I gathered quite a bit of information. Not all of it was useful, I will admit. Apparently one of the young serving boys had his eye blacked by one of the stable boys, and the kitchen girls vascilated between pity for the serving boy and admiration of the stable boy's muscles. Evidently he was the new best thing to have come out of the stables. Some of the sewing ladies were complaining over delayed shipments of fabric from Bingtown, and I lingered there for a time, hoping to hear more about the war with Chalced or, if I was lucky, mention of a dragon. Their talk strayed to the quality of linen available from different merchants though, and I left feeling frustrated. If I had thought to bring the list of names that Chade had provided me with, perhaps I would be having more success.

I stopped at Lady Rosemary's chamber quite by accident, but I stayed out of curiosity. I still did not trust her. Kettricken may have pitied her, and it was wise to keep Regal's assassin under a watchful eye, but I could not forget how she had caused a pregant Kettricken to slip on the stairs from the Queen's garden. She appeared to be readying herself for bed, and was in the process of washing cosmetic from her face. I squinted with my eye pressed to the small hole in the wall. Was that a rash she covered? I resolved to speak with her maid and inquire after her health. 

When the rooms that I looked in on began to be dark more often than not, their occupants retired to their beds or someone else's for the night, I retreated back to my servant's chamber. I debated seeking the Fool's company, but decided against it, and lay down for sleep. I did not want to think any more of prophets or dragons today.

What I got instead was Nettle. As I was sinking into sleep, I could feel my budding dream merging with hers. I did not resist it. It had been several days since I had skilled to my daughter, and even longer since I'd seen Hap. I felt a pang of guilt at that; I was not being much of a father to either. Nettle was dreaming of a lively market day, and was trying several different scarves about her shoulders. I approached silently, but she knew that I was there. She turned to me, smiling, and asked, " What do you think, Shadow Wolf? Red or Green?" 

" You could have both if you wished, it's your dream, is it not?" 

" Well, yes," My daughter frowned up at me prettily, " but it's more fun when you have to pick and choose, isn't it? It makes what you've chosen more precious, for you know that you truly loved it the best of all." 

The logic made sense, " The red one, then." The colour reminded me of Molly, striding through the market in her red skirts. Nettle looked very much like her mother, and I allowed myself a moment to imagine what it would have been like to walk through the market, arm in arm with Molly, buying trinkets and sweets. We could have a picnic by the beach, too. Molly would probably rebuke me for spoiling Nettle. I would have bought her both scarves. 

" Do you think so?" She tried the red again, " Very well, Shadow Wolf! The red it is." She took the red scarf from a smiling merchant. I reached for my purse to pay him, but she had already handed him his coins. I resolved that I would buy her one like it from Buckkeep town and have it delivered to her. With her new scarf wrapped about her throat, Nettle took my arm and together we wound our way through the crowded market. No one gave a second glance to the wolf-man and his young companion except to offer cheerful greetings in passing. It would be nice, I thought, if such a friendly place existed in reality. 

" You seem to be in good spirits, " I observed, " Has your father cheered up, then?" 

" He has, " Nettle confirmed, " One day he just got up and went back to work with the horses. That night he and mama talked after all of the younger children had gone to bed. I tried to hear what they were talking about, but it didn't work. Since then, he's seemed better. Lighter. Mother was still upset with him, and she cried a lot at first and she fussed over us more than ever, but she seems fine now too. The only problem is with Swift. Father's banned him from helping in the stables and he's not happy about it. It serves him right though, for running away like that." 

I listened to her account and felt a weight lifted from my shoulders. They were all fine. The idea that my secrets could have once again torn apart Molly's happiness, and Burrich's too, had filled me with self-loathing. Each of Nettle's tears had felt like arrow heads piercing my heart. I knew that I should still feel guilty, and I did, but for now it was over shadowed by my relief. " I'm very glad to hear that things are looking better for you and your family. It pained me to see you so upset." 

" I'm alright now, and it did help to be able to speak with you like this. Things are so much less complicated with dreams." 

" That is true." For a time a lost myself in the simple pleasure of spending time with my daughter. We discovered a hoard of treasures in the imaginary market, and despite Nettle's desire to pick and choose carefully, both of our arms were soon laden with our purchases. I smiled to myself, knowing that I would soon buy for her the favourites that she had found: the red scarf, and a pair of earrings that were shaped to look like flowers. It would be the first time I had ever bought my daughter a gift. I hoped that Molly and Burrich would not mind. I knew that I already had a lot of explaining to do to Molly if she ever wished to speak to me at all, and they might see it as me trying to win Nettle over from them. I could not care about that right now, though. My daughter deserved nice things, and she need never know that they came from her birth father. To her, I was Shadow Wolf. 


	12. Boys and Bloodshed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, updates have slowed from once a day to perhaps twice a week. I apologize. The next few chapters will require careful planning, but I will try to post before the end of the week!

That morning, I awoke reluctantly to a rapping at my door. I lay there for a single, happy moment where I enjoyed the memory of time spent with my daughter. If only I could have simple pleasures like that outside of our shared Skill dreams. The rapping came again and I sighed, rising and pulling open the door to admit the real world. Lord Golden did not often disturb me from my sleep, and I feared that some trouble, old or new, had threatened, so I was surprised when instead, I got an armful of Hap. "Tom, Tom, you're alright!" He shouted, his arms wrapped tightly about my chest. When I got over my initial shock, I looked over his head at Lord Golden. He wore an expression of shock as well, and I realized that he had not yet seen my renewed scars. 

Lord Golden cleared his throat, "Well. I see that he was awake after all. I will give you some privacy, but do try not to damage my servant in your enthusiasm." 

Hap hastily released me from his embrace at Lord Golden's words, and I felt a flash of annoyance with the Fool. Hap had not shown such happiness to see me since he was a boy. He looked me up and down as though checking for injuries then looked up into my face, " I'm sorry, Tom! I didn't hurt you, did I?" He then turned to Lord Golden, " I'm sorry, Lord Golden, for doubting your word. You were right to give him time to recover, I was just so worried. My apologies for disturbing your mornings and for..." He blushed, " All the other things I said." 

Lord Golden patted him on the head as if he were a lad of half his years and with just enough stiffness that he seemed to be afraid of catching some vermin by the act, " No harm done, I suppose. I could not possibly expect court manners from a country lad. I do, however, hope that you will refrain from shouting obscenities outside of my door in the future." The Fool shot me an amused glance while Hap stared, embarrassedly, at his feet.

" I'm sorry, I just wanted to see my da." I put my hand on Hap's shoulder. He rarely ever referred to me as his father, I was usually just Tom to him. I really had worried the boy. I should have at least sent him a note saying that I was alright. 

Lord Golden spoke more gently this time, " I know. And you're a fine son to have been so concerned for your father's well being. If you will excuse me, I'll leave you two to talk." 

Lord Golden strode from the room, no doubt to harrass his serving boy or to fish for gossip from the nobles. I turned my attention back to Hap, " I'm glad to see you." 

" I was coming by every morning! Master Gindast gave me leave to see you, so long as I would make the time up later. Oh, Tom, I was so worried! I thought you would die and I would be all alone again." Hap looked up at me, and I saw the little, abandoned boy with the mismatched eyes whose mother didn't want him. I pulled him in for another hug. For now, my near-death had erased the strain between us that had developed as Hap grew older, and I was glad for the chance to have my boy back again.

" I'm not going anywhere, Hap. Don't worry." 

" I would never have had the chance to tell you how grateful I am." Hap sniffed, " I love you, Tom." 

" I love you too, Hap. Cheer up, everything's fine." 

He pulled back from my embrace and wiped his eyes surreptitiously. He cleared his throat and looked me over again, his eyes widening, " You look awful, you look like a stick-man! Come on, you should be back in bed." He steered me back into my room and I let myself be led. We both sat on the edge of my bed, and I watched him take in the various decorations that Kettricken had insisted upon. His brow furrowed as he took in the huge tapestry of King Wisdom and the Elderlings that Chade had suggested that I might like, no doubt wondering why the strange thing could be thought of as a decoration. The thought made me shake my head. Chade certainly had a sense of humor. I had hated that tapestry as a boy. " You're a hero now, Tom! Everyone's talking about how you saved the Prince and Lord Bresinga from thieves in the forest! People are even saying that the thieves were actually Piebalds, is it true? Were they witted? Is that why you had to kill the horse? Is it true they nearly killed Lord Bresigna?" 

" Woah, Hap. One question at a time." I smiled at him even as my guts turned to ice at the mention of the Piebalds. " And first things first, you should know that being witted and being a Piebald are two different things. I do not know whether those thieves were witted or not, but being witted does not make someone a bad person. The Piebalds are witted, yes, but they're a group that does not scruple to kill both witted and un-witted alike. The witted who do not ally themselves with the Piebalds just want to be left in peace." 

" I know that, Tom." Hap huffed, as though offended that I would doubt him, " The wit is just another sort of magic, like Jinna being a Hedge Witch. To be honest, I've always kind of wondered about you and Nighteyes. You don't have to say anything either way. It's okay. But you never answered my questions! Tell me about what happened!" 

I stared at my boy for a moment, impressed by his equanimity towards the wit and even acceptance that I might be witted. I smiled, " I underestimated you, Hap. I apologize. As for what happened, I'm sorry that it's not more exciting, but I was just doing my job. Lord Golden was struck with the fancy to go hunting for some rare bird. It was pure luck that we chanced upon the Prince and Lord Bresigna. When we saw that they were being attacked, we killed the thieves. Unfortunately, I'm not as quick as I once was, and I was stabbed in the side, but I'm fine now. Just recovering." 

Hap listened with rapt attention to my lie, his eyes wide. " I didn't even know you could fight, Tom. I mean, I saw you with that sword when you left, and youv'e always carried your knife, but I never really knew you could actually properly fight. There's so much that I don't know about you, Tom! And I've lived with you for years! Were you a guardsman? Or were you someone's body guard before? Did you fight in the Red-Ship War? Did you kill other people?" 

I should have known that these questions would come eventually. Now that they had, I found myself underprepared as I sat before my foster son. What should I tell him? Should I start another set of lies, continuing on in my role as Tom Badgerlock, or should I tell him the truth? Could Hap be trusted with the truth? Did it even matter any more? I could no longer be FitzChivalry Farseer, the witted bastard, so what was the point to putting that idea in Hap's head? I decided to buy myself some time to think with as much of the truth as I could give him. Hopefully he would be distracted, " I did fight in the Red-Ship War, yes. I served aboard one of the war-ships as well, and I did kill people. It is not something I am proud of, but it was war and it was necessary." 

Hap nodded like a marionette, looking at me as though he'd never seen me before, " Wow. That's incredible! What was it like? Do you have any stories?" 

I smiled tolerantly at his boyish enthusiasm. To the children of this new generation, war was just a story. Something exciting and different from their ordinary lives. He knew something of the hardships that people endured, and he was burdened with the question of if he was raider-born, but he had never known battle. I was glad of that. With a sudden certainty, I knew that I would do anything in my power to prevent this innocent boy from ever seeing another war. Damn what anyone expected me to do. " It wasn't incredible, Hap." I corrected, mildly, " It was terrible and many lives were lost. I fought in several battles and I have faced forged ones, but none of it is really worthy of a story. I was just a soldier doing his job. No doubt some of my enemies were just soldiers doing their jobs as well." 

Hap's expression was both disappointment and chagirn, " I'm sorry, I know that war isn't a good thing, Tom. I'm not stupid. I just want to know more about you, that's all. And that seemed like a really important part." 

I patted him on the shoulder, " If you want to hear some stories, perhaps you could stop in the guard room on your way back? They'll give you a bowl of stew or some bread with cheese and fill you so full of stories that your head will spin." 

Hap thought it over then shook his head, " It's not the same. I wanted to hear about you. Besides, Gindast will be expecting me back soon." 

I seized the opportunity to change the subject, " How have you been doing in your apprenticeship? Is Gindast treating you well?" 

" I'm doing well. Gindast has started giving me some more responsibilities. It's still really tough work though. We get up before the sun even rises and we're doing chores until dark. I barely get any time to myself! And Gindast keeps calling me country-boy and idiot. It's rude!" 

" I've heard that he treats all of his apprentices like that. Not that that makes it any less rude, " I amended, " but at least I don't think that it's personal. Just do your best and try to keep on his good side." 

Hap snorted, " That exists? The man always seems to be in a bad mood." 

I chuckled, "It's good that you're being trusted with more than just turning logs, though. Are you enjoying the work?"

" I suppose so... I don't know, Tom. It isn't really what I had imagined it to be." 

" Do you like the work that Gindast does himself? Or the Journeymen? Perhaps with time, the work you're allowed to do will suit you better." 

" I like the carving and I like the things that he makes. They're really incredible! But I'm just not sure if it's something I could do. It's a lot more work than I had expected." 

I nodded, thinking it over. I had to wonder if his displeasure had anything to do with Svanja. Any boy would resent the work that kept him from his sweet heart. Regretfully, I asked, " And how are things with your girl, Svanja?" 

Hap frowned and looked down at his hands. He picked at a thread in his tunic as he admitted, quietly, " She's with a sailor now." 

My heart went out the lad, even as I felt a father's relief that they were done, " She broke things off with you? It seemed to me that she was very eager for your company." 

" She didn't even do that! I saw them in the market one day, while I was on an errand for Gindast. She was on his arm and I thought that perhaps they might be cousins or something, but she was wearing new earrings and a new shawl. She saw me looking, but she pretended not to know me and just kept going, even as her face flushed red. I didn't want to believe it at first, but the men at the Stuck Pig soon cured me of my ignorance.." I listened to his tale and offered him what sympathies I could. It pained me to see that his first love had wounded him in this way, and I hoped that he would find that happiness again. He was young yet, with a promising apprentiship. There was time yet for romance.

When he left, back to Gindast's shop to do his work, I sat in my bed for a time longer. I was selfishly happy. Svanja had never been good enough for my earnest, kind-hearted boy, and I had my Hap back again. He would test my authority and I would have to let him go his own way as he carved out a life for himself, but for now I had been able to enjoy him being my boy again. Even when he was grown, he would still be my Hap, I knew, but I missed the child that he had been. I would go down to visit him when I went to buy Nettle's scarf, I resolved, then I questioned it. Was it wise? The Piebalds were bent on taking vengeance against Lord Golden and I. Hap had already been here how many mornings? Could the Piebalds know that he was mine? A chill of dread went down my spine at that thought. No, I could allow no harm to come to Hap. Even if that meant keeping a distance yet again. At least until those threatening me were killed, I thought savagely.

I changed my shirt before emerging from my room, and made an effort to look presentable. My clothes hung on me, and I feared that Hap was right: I did look like a stick-man. I doubted that I had the strength to hold my blade for any length of time, never mind wield it well. I decided that I would resume my training at the practice courts to regain some muscle. Lord Golden was still absent from the rooms, but I did catch the serving boy in the midst of replentishing the firewood. He looked up, startled, when I entered, and his eyes widened further as he took in my appearance. One of his eyes was blacked, I noticed immediately. He must have been the one to have crossed a stable boy. I attempted to put him at ease, " Good morning. I've seen you coming and going, but I don't think that we've been properly introduced. I'm Tom, Lord Golden's man." 

" Bramble, sir. Is my name, that is." He hastily dumped the remainder of the wood in its place and dusted his hands on his leggings. He still regarded me with that owlish look of one who's seen a ghost. Either I really did look remarkably ill yet, or the tales of my rescuing the prince had been wildly exaggerated. " I should be going now, sir. Good day to you." He gave one last glance at the untidy pile of wood, as though wondering if he should fix it, before bolting from the room. I didn't know what to make of it. 

It was early still, and the sun was just rising. Despite the chill of the air, the windows were uncovered. I wondered at that, since the Fool had never enjoyed the cold, but decided that perhaps the sunlight was worth it. No wonder we went through so much firewood. I tidied the stack then sighed to myself. It had been long since Dutiful and I had a proper lesson in the Skill, and we had only just reconciled when the Piebalds made their attack. Perhaps it was time that we resumed our usual schedule. _Dutiful. Are you awake?_

_Tom! Yes, I'm awake._ I could feel his excitement bubbling, _Chade had forbidden me to visit you, saying that you needed your rest. Are you well now?_

_As well as can be expected. My injuries are completely healed thanks to you._

_It was my fault that you took those injuries to begin with. I'm sorry. My carelessness nearly led to your death. I owe you my life. How can I repay you?_

_I only did my duty, my Prince. You owe me no debt._

Dutiful was annoyed and a bit hurt by my response, _Only your duty? Not because you care for me at all, then? Not because we're family?_

_Family?_ My mind froze. 

His annoyance with me was gone as abruptly as it had flared, replaced by his enthusiasm. _My mother told me everything. Why was I not told sooner? I suspected something when you treated me so casually. I thought that you were perhaps Chade's son, but you're not, you're Chivalry's! We're cousins!_

I was still reeling with shock. _Dutiful, perhaps we should discuss this in person. Would you meet me in the tower room?_

_Of course, cousin!_

I took longer than necessary in making my way to the Skill tower. My mind raced but still somehow remained stuck on one thought: Dutiful knew who I was. That knowledge seemed to weigh me down and my feet felt as though they were encased in stone. Still, I trudged my way up to the tower. Dutiful did not seem angry, nor did he seem to hate me. On the contrary, he seemed pleased. That thought was all that gave me the strength to make my way up the endless stairs and enter the room through my usual entrance.

Dutiful was waiting for me. He had been dusting off the table. Such a thing for a prince to do. I felt grateful to Kettricken for raising Dutiful so well, and to Dutiful himself for being such an unconceited boy. I felt proud, though I knew that I had not contributed to his upbringing at all. He turned to me and smiled, as he pulled out a chair, " Sit down, please, Tom! Or I suppose I could call you 'Fitz' couldn't I? I know that you're still recovering." 

I crossed the room and sat, dumbfounded. The prince sat in his customary spot and leaned forward, watching me intently. His eyes traveled over my face as though searching for something. I found my tongue, "You're looking well. Were you injured in our fight with the Piebalds?" 

"A few bruises, and I was scared out of my wits, but thanks to you, everything turned out alright. I really can't thank you enough. I was horrible to you about the Skill command, and you still came to my aid." 

"I would never let anyone harm you, Dutiful. Surely you must know that."

"At the time, I did not. When I had discovered and broken your hold over me I had even thought you capable of treason. I know better now, though."

"Do you forgive me, then?" 

"I forgive you. And I've decided that I trust you, as well. Though, I will expect that you stop keeping secrets from me, FitzChivalry Farseer. If I find that you've betrayed the trust that I am giving you, I will not be pleased." 

I inclined my head, " Thank you, my Prince." 

" Enough of that 'my Prince' nonsense. You've as much royal blood as I have, for all that you were born on the wrong side of the sheets. In fact, if your father had accepted you as heir, you would be king right now." 

I wondered what Dutiful would think, knowing that it was my body that had fathered his. That he was my son and not my cousin. That fact would remain a secret. "But he didn't, Dutiful, and you are the prince." 

" I would still rather that you called me Dutiful, at least while we're alone." 

" Very well, Dutiful." 

Dutiful smiled and wriggled like a pup, watching me avidly. It made me feel awkward, having so much attention focused on me. Dutiful had grown up without his father or any other male relative or role model. I thought back to how unaccustomed he was to rough play when I had suggested that we spar and wrestle. He had been starved for that kind of relationship, much as Hap had been when I'd first taken him in. He did not even have siblings with whom he could engage in the sort of tussling and casual rough housing that most children took part in. The sons of his dukes and nobles were acquaintances to be treated respectfully but kept at an appropriate distance. Though I knew that I could never have taken the role of father in his life, I did feel oddly guilty. I reached over and rumpled his hair. His hands flew up to correct it, and he looked at me as though I'd just turned one of the Fool's old tumbling tricks. He grinned, broadly, " My cousin. It's still so hard to believe. But it's true! I look at you and I can see the resemblance to the portraits of our fathers. Your scars are back now, of course. Did you know that they were gone for a time? My mother sat down with me by your bed side and told me that she can sometimes see my father in your face and in your eyes." 

"How much has she told you?" 

"Trying to determine what secrets are left to you?" Dutiful frowned, but he was only half serious, "My mother told me all, so I'm afraid that you're out of luck. She told me of her first meeting with you in the Mountain Kingdom, and how you told her about my father to ease her worries about the marriage. She told me as much as she could, all the way to your journey to save my father, and how he died, or rather, went into his dragon. It took several nights, but together we sat by your bedside, mother on her cushion and I on the floor beside her, and she told me that she wanted me to know who had nearly died for me. Chade was opposed to the idea, of course. Chade never wants me to know anything. They argued about it, but mother had her way. She can be remarkably stubborn. She told him that I should know what it means to be a true Sacrifice for my people... Do you know what it means for her to name you so? It means that she considers you the rightful king."

I bowed my head, "I am not truly worthy of such praise from her." 

" Well, my mother thinks that you are." Dutiful said, decisively, "She respects you, and she acknowledges all that you've done for the Six Duchies. If you wished it, you could come back. As FitzChivalry, I mean. She would protect you with every force at her command. It might even help the situation with the Piebalds, to have the Witted Bastard openly oppose them. You're legendary among the witted folk. To hear Civil speak of you, you could be a god! There are songs written about you! If you would claim your rightful place in this court, you could surely rally the people behind you against the Piebald threat." 

I had faced a similar situation once before, when Duke Brawndy had asked me to act as regent in Buckkeep, as Verity's heir had not yet been born. I had felt the shifting of possibilities as they swirled around me, and I did again now. The Coastal duchies had been leaderless with Shrewd ailing and Kettricken and Verity gone. They had no desire to follow Regal. Instead, they would have rallied behind me to make a stand against the Red-Ships. At that point, I had nothing to lose. Molly had left me. I had agreed to stand as ruler in Buckkeep until such a time as the crown could be safely passed on to Verity's child. Of course, it had not come to be. I had killed Justin and Serine and been imprisoned and beaten to death in Regal's dungeon. Now, in a similar situation, with Molly lost to me and threats of civil unrest and war darkening the horizon, I was being offered the chance to lead, though I would not be king in name. I knew well that Dutiful did not relish the responsibility placed upon him that had robbed him of a carefree childhood. He offered me this chance glad to be able to share some of the responsibility that weighted his young shoulders. I knew, too, that Chade had been stepping beyond his position as councilor to the Queen. If I agreed, I could wrest away some of the power that Chade had hoarded and pass it on to Dutiful as he proved himself worthy.

Of course, it was more likely that I would be cut into quarters and burned. The people had no love of the wit, now more than ever, and if I revealed myself as having risen from the grave, they would surely waste no time in being rid of me for good. Kettricken had said that she would protect me, but would it be enough? I saw Dutiful's logic: he thought that some would turn from the Piebald's cause if they knew the Witted Bastard opposed it. But, Laudwine had known who I was, and so it was likely that the other Piebalds did as well. If their goal was still vengeance against the Farseers for Regal's crimes and for allowing the Witted to be executed, then their having protected me while others died would only fuel their hatred. Perhaps me revealing myself was exactly what the Piebalds were trying to goad us into. As for the common people of Buck, perhaps they might relish open warfare against the Piebalds, but I did not put it past them to turn on me once the bloodshed was done. No, I should remain in the shadows. I had paused long, and I was saved from replying by a tap at the door. I rose and made myself unnoticable in the dark shadows of the room while Dutiful answered.

" I'll take it myself, thank you." Dutiful stepped out of the room momemtarily, then reappeared holding a tray of breakfast foods. He set it down on the table then shut and latched the door again. "I hope you don't mind, Tom, it feels funny to call you that now, I sent for some food to be brought up here before you arrived. I said that I was ravenous, and so there's more than enough for us both. The kitchen staff seem to think that a growing boy needs more food than a grown man on an ordinary day!" 

I resumed my seat at the table, "Not at all." I eyed the tray with interest. There was quite the assortment: fruit preserves, fresh biscuits with a little pot of yellow butter, sliced meats, cheese, tarts both savory and sweet, and a loaf of the morning's bread. All much better than thin soups and gruel. 

The Prince retrieved one of the cups that I had stolen from the kitchen for our use and came back to the table. He took up the pot of freshly brewed tea that accompanied the feast and poured for us both. He was serving me as I might have served Chade or Verity when I was his age. "Do you take honey with your tea, FitzChivalry?" 

I reached for the little pot and took up a spoonful to stir into my tea, "I can serve myself. I am grateful, but you are the prince, you should not be waiting on me." 

"You are also my cousin, and I will serve you if I wish." Kettricken's stubbornness manifested in her son as he defiantly began portioning out the food.

A shook my head at him, astounded. Prince Regal would never have been caught dead serving another man. " You amaze me, Dutiful. You show courtesy to the servants and you do not hesitate to do their tasks yourself."

"My mother was determined that I be raised in a way befitting a Sacrifice. A Sacrifice is meant to know how to do all of the common tasks of a servant, and do them well. We are not above any, instead we serve our people. She wished me sent to the Mountains to be taught, but Chade was insistent that I stay in the Six Duchies. My mother fostered me out to Lady Patience to page for her instead. I stayed there for a year and a half and I learned much. I was certainly not treated like a spoiled prince there!" Dutiful frowned, suddenly, " Lady Patience told me much about you as well." 

My heart sank as I listened to Dutiful tell me of his time with Patience, of how she had spoken of me as her son and how I had come to be called Tom. I had kept that name little knowing it's significance. He rebuked me for letting my own mother grieve for me all these years, and I could do nothing but put my head in my hands and fight back tears. My secrets had hurt so many people, and Patience was perhaps the least deserving of that sorrow. I had to tell her, but how could I? Patience would proclaim my continued existance from the rooftops. She was the furthest thing from subtle that there was. Perhaps I underestimated her, but could I really be sure? If she thought that it was for my own good, I was sure that she would erect a statue in my honour and demand that everyone else celebrate with her. I sipped my tea. It was too sweet, but I drank it anyway.

Dutiful spoke again, breaking me out of my thoughts, " I think that she would be angry with you at first, but she would be so happy that you were alive, I think that she would forgive you for having gone so long without telling her. She is the type to scold you but still love you anyway." 

" I will consider it, but very few people know that I still live, and it must be kept that way, at least for now. This is a dangerous secret, and many people would not hesitate to see me dead for good." 

"You think that Patience would betray you?" Dutiful was incredulous, " She loves you like her own son."

" I know, and it it is that love for me that could prompt her to reveal me. She is a very unpredictable woman." 

"She is that," Dutiful agreed, " but she loves you. She deserves to know." 

I nodded, " Yes, she does." 

"Did you spend much time with my father?" Dutiful asked, suddenly." 

"I did not see him much when I was young, but as I grew older he began to take more of an interest in me. I would bring his meals for him, up to this tower, and he would teach me to Skill when he had time." 

"Can you tell me about him? About what he was like. Little things? My mother always says what a wonderful man he was, but she never tells me things like his favourite food or whether he liked to sleep in in the mornings. Now that I know who you are, it's like having my father in my life, in a way. I can't tell you how good it is to have that." 

I could see the hunger in his eyes, the longing for some connection to his father. I could not deny him, but what would I tell him? I knew what I would have liked to hear, at his age. " Your father was a bluff, open-hearted man. He was always honest, true to his name. It made him a bit clumsy at politics, and he preferred soldiering to negotiating. He kept meticulous maps of the Six Duchies that he drew himself, and he was very particular about his pens, ink, and velum. He used to cut his pens himself, and his hands were always spotted with ink. He always had the smell of it on him. Before the war, he used to love to go hunting. He had a wolfhound named Leon whom he was very fond of. They went out together very often." 

"Was my father witted then? Is that were I got it?" Dutiful asked, eagerly. 

"No, he wasn't witted. But he would never have thought less of a man who was. He was the sort of man who would measure another by what he did, rather than how he was born. He was also very kind. I did not have many toys growing up, but he gave me some of his old ones, for no reason at all, and he would never call me bastard..." I trailed off, thinking of the hearty man with the ready smile, " He didn't really take the time for pleasantries, though, and it made some folk think that he was rude. He wasn't. He just assumed that people would tell him if there was something he needed to know, so, he always seemed to assume that things were going well, unless someone told him otherwise. At least before the war. He spared nothing of himself to see the Six Duchies free of Red-Ships." 

Dutiful listened, drinking in my every word. "I wish that I had been able to know him." 

"So do I. He was a wonderful man, and I'm sure that he wished to be able to meet you as well."

The conversation lapsed into silence for a time, and together we cleared the table of food. Dutiful still watched me, as though I were a butterfly that might take flight any moment. When I scowled at him, he just grinned back. I could not help but return the smile. " I think that I've recovered enought that we could resume our Skill lessons, if you are willing, my Prince." 

" I am." Dutiful agreed, readily, " Will the others be joining us as well?" 

" Others?" 

" Yes. Lord Golden, Chade, and his half-wit." 

I frowned, " His name is Thick, and Chade and I were planning to win his loyalty to you, not Chade. He has strength enough to be a good King's Man. That reminds me." I patted my pockets, and thankfully withdrew the red whistle on a green string that the Fool had carved. " This is for him. He was very upset that some bullies broke his last one. Perhaps if you give it to him, you could start winning him over." 

Dutiful took the whistle and looked at it appreciatively, even as he wrinkled his nose at the idea of working with Thick, " Must I? He seems content with Chade. I have no desire to work with a half-wit." 

I fought back a sigh at his prejudice. In the mountains, where life was harsher than in the Six Duchies, babes such as Thick must have been were exposed at bith. Even in the Six Duchies, it was not an uncommon practice. Perhaps he picked up some of those attitudes from Kettricken. I reached for patience inside myself as I responded, " Thick is a good man. Don't discount him until you've gotten to know him. He may seem simple, but he is very strong in the Skill and from what I've seen, he just thinks a bit differently than you or I do. Give him a chance. This coterie is meant to serve you, not Chade, and Thick is a member of our coterie." 

Dutiful sighed and pocketed the whistle, "Very well. I'll try it." 

I smiled at him, " Good. When next we meet for Skill lessosn, I'll see about the others joining us." 

Dutiful looked disappointed, " I was hoping... I know that it's selfish, but I was rather hoping that it would just be we two." 

I put a hand on his shoulder, " We can make time to talk outside of our lessons. I'll see if I can find some of Verity's old maps for you to look at as well. How's that?" 

" I would love that!" Dutiful's smile returned, " Thank you, FitzChivalry." 

" You mean Tom. I must be Tom to you if we are to keep my secret safe." 

" I can be discreet. I heard Chade call you Fitz, and I'm sure that Lord Golden does as well. It's hard to imagine him in a jester's motley." 

I relented, " Very well, Dutiful. But only in private." 

He nodded, pleased at having won that small battle. I hoped that he could be as discreet as he claimed. I startled when I heard the secret entrance open, and spun in my seat to see Chade standing in his finery, heedless of the dust and cobwebs that now spoiled it. The set of his face was one that I knew well. "What is it, what's happened?" I questioned him.

"We've received another message." He strode to the table and set a piece of parchment before me. If Dutiful cared that Chade reported to me, he did not show it. The parchment was signed with the image of a Piebald stalion. It said:

_Justice will not be stopped. The Farseers have turned a blind eye to spilled blood. Now Farseer blood will be spilled._


	13. Preparations

Chapter 13

"Have they made any move beyond sending this note?" I queried, looking over the parchment at Chade.

Chade was sitting in his chair by the hearth, fingers steepled under his chin. The dancing flames were reflected eerily in his eyes, and the dim light made the shadows of his face seem darker. As much as he relished the political maneuvering and plotting that went with his position as councilor to the Queen, I could see worry clearly in the lines of his brow and the set of his jaw. " None yet that I am aware of." He sighed, " I know what I would do in their positions. I can think of a thousand plans, but that does not help me at all if I cannot narrow it down to at least a few choices. A spy in their ranks, or two, would be ideal. You are unfortunately useless in that regard, since they know your face. Civil, perhaps, if word of his betrayal has not spread somehow, but they would not be likely to entrust him with their plans again, nor would I trust him not to betray us."

"Perhaps Dutiful could question him? He may know something but not yet realize its importance." I suggested. Dutiful had been sent to discuss matters with his mother with the strict instructions not to eat anything that could be easily tampered with until we were able to clear the kitchen staff and his personal servants of suspicion. I think only his concern for his mother kept him from demanding to be privy to what Chade and I discussed.

"It would be worth a try. Though I doubt that we would know the significance of any details he could reveal to us until it was too late. I will advice Dutiful to have a chat with his young friend. In the mean time, are you sure there is no one you could contact that may be of any help?" 

"No, I'm afraid not, Chade. None of the witted that I have known would have joined with the Piebalds. They're likely worried for their lives. Besides, I would have no way of sending a message."

Chade sighed, probably at my uselessness, " Why threaten the first ruler in ages to actually attempt to defend the witted? Regal's King's Circle has been dismantled. We no longer allow execution of those suspected of practicing the magic. What more do they want from us?" 

"It just seems like revenge to me at this point, Chade. Many families were destroyed during Regal's time as king, and even before that, the witted lived in fear of persecution. The resentment that they carry will not be appeased by negotiation and new laws that may or may not be followed."

"You seem very knowledgable about their states of mind. Tell me, Fitz. What would you have us do? Hand the prince over to them on a platter with you as a side-dish so that they can satisfy their appetites for Farseer blood?"

I frowned, " No. I was just trying to help you understand. It has moved beyond the point where they might have been reasoned with. The Piebalds are killing our people and have attempted to assassinate the prince more than once. I think that it's good that Kettricken is still trying to give justice to the witted. Those who do not agree with the extreme attitudes of the Piebalds would still appreciate the gesture, and it may win them to our side." 

" Well. Thanks to the nasty business with Laudwine, the witted are more skittish than ever. The convocation will continue, much to my surprise. They will be arriving here twelve days hence and will be wearing cloaks and hoods to protect their identities. The rendezvous is to be within a days ride of Buckkeep, but a notice with the exact location will be delivered by bird on the day of the meeting. To give us less of a chance to plan an ambush, I suppose. Clever. They asked for an exchange of hostages, too, but of course I told Kettricken that it was nonsense, though she did foolishly agree to send Dutiful to meet them. They will be escorted to the castle by the Queen's own guard under a safe-passage flag. The Piebalds have been killing the witted who do not fall in with their ideals. That would make them a common enemy. Do you think an alliance with the witted against the Piebalds would offer any advantage to us?" 

I considered, " They might have information, but they might not. It's not as if everyone lives in a town or village. Still, they may have heard something. But how do we know that we will not be walking Piebalds into the castle or delivering the Prince into an ambush?" 

"None of these missives have been signed with the Piebald horse, and these negotiations were put into motion before you killed Laudwine. They would have had no reason to open negotiations with us at that time if they had planned on luring Dutiful away earlier."

"No, but they could sneak a Piebald into their midst. We would have no way of knowing."

"I suspect that those chosen to attend will be well known to eachother. The witted have no love of the Piebalds either. Nevertheless, you are right to be cautious. We will, of course, be watching them closely."

"You should probably begin referring to them as Old Blood. It's how the witted who are not Piebalds refer to themselves."

"Yes. Old Blood. Well, we will feel them out. Get an idea of who we are dealing with before we attempt to win any information from them."

"If I were a Piebald, and I wanted to make a political statement, I would do it in a public place before as many nobles and people of influence as I could. The convocation would be a good place."

"We will be wary. In the mean time, I would not rule out the possibility of the Piebalds acting sooner than that. Keep your ears pricked for any gossip or suspicious behaviour."

"I will do that."

"One other thing, Fitz, that I think might put your mind at ease. I have arranged that you will be riding with the Queen's Guard when they leave to escort the wi- Old Blood back to the castle."

"You've arranged? Won't it look a bit odd that Lord Golden's serving man is riding with the Queen's Guard?"

"Not at all, when that serving man has been recognized for his bravery in defending his master and his prince from thieves, killing three men and a horse single handed in the dead of night. Captain Marshcroft will be quite anxious to secure your services for the Queen's guard, as a man with your abilities would be a welcome addition to his men. You could cite better wages as your reason for accepting the position, and Lord Golden would be eager to curry favor with the Queen by allowing her to hire his man away from him. Perhaps he's realized that he no longer requires a bodyguard in our court, no matter how barbarous the Jamailians seem to think we are."

I raised my eyebrows at him. It was plain that he had put a great deal of thought and planning into this already, that old fox. How long had he been planning this particular maneuver, and to what end? "You certainly seem to have everything figured out."

"Naturally." Chade puffed out his chest, " A man in our profession must always be prepared for every eventuality."

"It doesn't happen to be related to our discussion about the Fool being a White Prophet does it? You aren't simply trying to keep us separated so that he won't be able to influence my decisions." 

Chade frowned at me, "Don't speak nonsense, boy. If the Fool decides that he has some important riddle or prophecy or some other rubbish to share with you, I highly doubt that something as simple as a change in positions will stand in his way. That man is resourceful." 

I shook my head, a small smile on my lips, " Well. I'll speak to him now about the plan to have me changed to the Queen's Guard. No doubt he'll appreciate the time to come up with a suitably dramatic way to noise it about the keep." 

"You do that. If you have need of me or hear anything new about the Piebalds, just have Lord Golden send a message with the word 'horse' in it."

"Very well." I rose and stretched. It was still only noon, but it felt like hours had passed. I made my way through the spy passages with every sense alert for danger. The threat against Dutiful and I woke every instinct I had to find and kill whoever had made the threat before they could kill us first. Without a target, this instinct manifested as hypervigilance. I scrutinized every shadow that I passed, and analyzed every sound. Rationally, I knew that such paranoia would only leave me exhausted when the threat finally did reveal itself, but it was hard to relax when there were enemies after our blood. I paused to be sure that my servant's room was empty before I triggered the entrance that allowed me to pass from the bones of the castle into its flesh. Here, all would be proceeding as usual. People laughed and went about their days with only their individual concerns to trouble them, giving the keep the appearance of normalicy while beneath that facade, Chade and I would be the ugly skeleton that supported the facade and kept it moving.

There was nothing out of the ordinary in Lord Golden's chambers. The Fool had returned and was reading what appeared to be a very old scroll on a strange parchment, and the serving boy had brought a sumptuous lunch that was waiting on the table. Fruit with sweet cream, tea, fresh bread, stew, and meat pies. The pies and bread were probably safe, having been part of a large batch meant to feed the keep. Any tampering with those would have been detectable, but the cream, tea, and stew could easily be vessels for poison. I cleared those things from the table, ignoring the Fool's raised brows. She did not comment and rose from the chair at her desk to join me. "I see you've returned. Had you a meeting with Chade?"

"How did you know?"

The Fool gave a meaningful look to the dishes I'd set aside.

I sighed, "There have been threats made by the Piebalds, since Kettricken would not allow the them to exact their vengeance on us for the deaths of Laudwine and the others. This latest one said that there would be Farseer blood spilled." 

"I can understand your desire for caution then."

"It seems the only thing I can do is be cautious. I wish they would just show themselves and fight honestly." What a thing for an assassin to wish.

"It would certainly make things much easier." The Fool looked contemplative, "What was the exact message recieved, and how?" 

"A scroll was delivered, it said 'Justice will not be stopped. The Farseers have turned a blind eye to spilled blood. Now Farseer blood will be spilled.' It was signed with the image of a Piebald horse." 

"Farseer blood... Odd that they seek their vengeance now, 15 years since Regal ruled." 

"Odd? Our lives are being threatened and you call it odd? They'll be after you too, you know. You helped thwart two attempts at kidnapping now." 

The Fool smirked at me and broke off a piece of bread, " Well, there certainly is nothing odd about people wanting you dead, or Dutiful dead, or I dead. I merely think it interesting that they choose now to make a fuss." 

"Make a fuss..." I shook my head, "You're remarkably calm about this."

"Not at all." The Fool smiled, taking a bite of the bread, "I know there is danger; it terrifies me. However, since it does not seem that the threat is being carried out this moment, I thought I would enjoy lunch with you, Fitzy." 

The statement reminded me of Nighteyes and I missed him terribly, the place in my mind where he once was aching with an intensity that made me gasp in a breath, " Nighteyes... He used to think like that. Why worry about a tomorrow that may never come to pass. I've never been able to live with such immediacy."

"Nor have I. I am a White."

I furrowed my brow and the Fool explained, " My whole life's purpose is founded on the many possible futures that could be. It just seemed to me that it was important to be able to appreciate the present for a little while. I have spent my life worrying and planning to steer time towards a better future, and in doing so I have not taken the time to appreciate this moment, which is the future of yesterday and yesterday's yesterday. Even if it is just a meal with a friend, I would like to enjoy some of the future that I have made. It is selfish, but compared to all of time, a single life is but the merest spark. A fart in all of the winds of the world. I would like to take what small pleasures are offered to me in my life. If indeed the Piebalds succeed, I will look back on this lunch with fondness." 

My eyebrows rose during that short speech, and for a moment I stared at the Fool. It was a very unusual stance for my friend to take. "Well, if you are able to see the possible futures, can you not tell me what the Piebalds are planning so that we may stop it?" 

She was already shaking her head before I'd finished the question, "Too much changes. You cause change. Just the act of my telling you could alter what action they will take."

"Isn't that what you're supposed to do though? Change the future. Just find a path that leads to them not killing us and aim for that." 

The Fool gave me a look that bordered on appalled, "Do you think that I've been doing otherwise? How do you know that I'm not doing so right now?"

"Well you hardly seemed to be helping..." I grumbled, starting in on my own lunch.

"You pout so sweetly, my dear Fitz. It melts my heart, truly it does." 

I glared and the Fool flicked a bit of pie crust at me. I ignored it, "That threat is not the only news I have. Apparently there is to be a convocation of Old Blood here in twelve days. Chade wants me to ride out as an escort for the Prince when he and his entourage go to meet them. 

"I can see why. You have the wit, the Skill, and are good with a blade."

I plunged on in my telling, " To do that, Chade would like me to become a member of the Queen's Guard, rather than your servant. He'd like you to allow Kettricken to hire me from you."

"You mean that _he_ would like to hire you away from me. Yes, that sounds like him. What would you like to do?"

"It's a sensible plan. I think that I should do it. It would not mean that we could no longer spend time together. I would just have a different set of duties, and it's not like I made for a very convincing servant any way."

"Very well then, Fitz. Yes, infact I encourage you to go along with it. I will let it known about the keep that Lord Golden has no further need of his bodyguard-servant. It might even increase my popularity, if such a thing is possible."

And so it was done, with much less fuss than I had anticipated. The guards accepted me with an equanimity that made me wonder how many of their number were in Chade's pocket. They did not question my arrival, nor did they question the nights that I would spend up at the keep rather than the barracks. I was able to begin my physical training again, which drove home how great a toll the Skill-healing had taken from me. I only hoped that I would be prepared should any threat present itself.

The Skill training resumed as well, with both Chade and Thick present in addition to Dutiful. Lord Golden declined the invitation to join us with no more explanation than that he refused to be woken at such an ungodly hour. I knew the Fool to be an early riser, but did not question it. Privately I was glad that she would form no Skill-bond with the others. It was not a posessiveness that I felt, merely a reluctance to share what seemed such a private and special thing between us.


	14. Fire

Chapter 14

My days fell into an anxious routine of worry and preparation. The air outside was still crisp and chill with the bite of winter, but I could smell on the wind that spring was coming. The cold kept the sky clear, while the beating sun steadily ate away at the snow. The promise of future warmth did nothing to stop the cold from seeping into my bones, however. I had not realized how much my body had protected itself from the cold until I found it stripped of its defenses. With much of my flesh lost in the Skill-healing, it now seemed that the wind blew right through me and that icy cold fingers gripped and pinched at me through any gaps in my clothing, stealing away what little warmth I had hoarded. In response, goose pimples would rise on my skin, and the hair of my arms would stand up as though reaching for the wind to return its plunder. I would cross my arms and tuck my hands under them, or stubbornly ignore it as I and the other guardsmen went through our drills.

In the mornings, I had weapons training. I am ashamed to say that I left with more bruises than I had since I was a lad. On my first day back, Delleree had wearied of beating me after about half an hour. She shook her head at me as she stepped back and lowered her blunted blade. I grimaced. If it had been sharp I would have been dead. As it was, I would be black and blue soon enough. I pushed on doggedly, though. I raised my practice blade, despite how my arms trembled. I cursed my body for its weakness and I punished it by training long hours. It got its revenge with aches and bruises. I could waste no more time in convalescence, however. I needed to build muscle again. I needed to be able to defend my prince, the Fool, and myself.

Skill training was even earlier. As usual, we gathered in Verity's tower room in the pre-dawn hours of the day. Dutiful would stare at me with adoration as though his father had returned from the grave. Chade was a reluctant student, convinced that he knew better than his teacher, and impatient with my explanations. Thick disliked me as much as ever, and I would often catch him smirking at me as he called me Dogstink via the Skill. Dutiful heard it and would laugh at my scowl; Chade was often frustrated that he could not hear the message. What a coterie we made.

It was not all bad, though. Under my instruction, Dutiful had begun to gift Thick with trinkets and sweets, and Thick seemed well pleased with his gifts. Chade would grumble over us spoiling him, but I think that he was more put out that Thick was no longer his private reservoir of Skill strength. Thick's eyes would light with pleasure, and the little man's toady mouth would stretch in a grin at each offering. When he was not insulting me, he was actually pleasant company, if not a gifted conversationalist. He was as starved for praise as he had been for sweets, and his chest would puff up with pride when one of the other members of the coterie would compliment him. He seemed fascinated by Dutiful, and would often mimick his way of sitting with his fingers interlaced on his lap or his way of reporting to Chade. Chade, he would turn to for approval, much as a child would look to their parent. He was like a child in more ways than that, I realized one morning, as I watched he and Dutiful laugh over something he had excavated from his nose.

"Wipe your hand!" Dutiful shouted through his laughter, " That thing looks like it might even be alive!" 

Thick's tiny eyes widened and he hastily pulled a red kerchif from his pocket to wipe the mess away. Chade grumbled and shook his head at their liveliness. 

"Where did you get that, Thick? It's nice!" Dutiful praised, as Thick stuffed the dirtied cloth back into his trouser pocket. 

"Bought it in the market." Thick explained, already rummaging in his nostril once more, " The lady gave me my pennies and I went to buy my sweets, but I already had sweets from before. When Chade gave them to me. And I wanted a pie with gooseberries, but the man with the hat said that there was no more pie. I was sad, but then I saw this and it reminded me of my whistle so I bought it." Thick nodded at the end of his tale, brandishing the dirtied kerchif once more to display it. 

Dutiful took a step back to avoid touching it, " Well, it's very nice, Thick. You have good taste. Maybe you should put it away now, though, so you don't lose it."

Thick's chest puffed out as he tucked it away again and Chade's grumbling grew louder. Thick's tale reminded me that I had not bought Nettle her red scarf yet, but it would have to wait. Maybe later today I would risk venturing into town. I might hear some useful gossip. I sighed. Time to get everyone back on track. "Alright, you two. That's enough of a break. Let's get back to work."

Dutiful's smile faded, and he resumed his seat. I felt a pang of guilt at ending his fun; the boy was given very little chance to truly be a child. Still, I wanted to get our coterie as close to functional as it could get, if not before the convocation, then before the journey to Aslevjal. As soon as Thick had taken his seat as well and Chade's grumbling silenced, I resumed our lessons.

We had made some progress as a coterie. Chade was becoming more reliable with the Skill, though he was still frustrated by how far he lagged behind the rest of us. Dutiful took to the Skill like a duck to water, but still found it difficult to direct his Skill toward a single person. Thick was, perhaps, the strongest and most intuitive user of the Skill, but it was a difficult task to judge his progress, when his focus was more often on food or his music than on our lessons. At the end of this morning's work, we adjourned with relief. Dutiful and Thick were the most obviously distracted, but even I was glad to be done. It was a particularly warm day, and once Thick had unknowingly reminded me of my errands in Buckkeep town, I was eager to go. It had been too long since I'd left the keep. I conveyed my plans to Chade, who disapproved, but let me go for the sake of the rumors I might overhear in town.

I entered the passageways and descended to my old servant's chamber. Despite our promises to eachother, it was inevitable that the Fool and I see less of eachother with my change in position. It had been six days since my official transfer to the Queen's Guard and we had spoken briefly only a handful of times. It was a change that sat oddly in my mind. I had become accustomed to our meals together and late night conversations, and only now that those times were done did I realize how much I enjoyed them. Living in my old cabin with Hap and Nighteyes had been quiet. No one that I saw regularly knew of my true identity save Nighteyes, and I was content with that. Even happy. Nighteyes and I shared a bond too deep and too close to allow loneliness to sink in. The Fool's visit to me had not changed that, but it had ignited an ember of restlessness in my spirit that I had thought long gone to ash. She had not ridiculed my simple life to make me suddenly dissatisfied. On the contrary, the Fool had adapted her own life and routine to meld with mine, a blatant contrast to Starling's occasional upheavals of my days, and even professed to understand why I would choose that life over one in Buckkeep. Perhaps if she had mocked my solitary lifestyle I could have defended it to myself. Like the carvings that adorned my furniture and rain barrel, or the spices she would add to an otherwise plain stew, her presence made something more of my shabby existance. Her subsequent departure had made me see what was lacking in my world more than any disparagement could have. I had begun to see how little I had accomplished and to long for a future as well as miss my friend more keenly than I had in over a decade. And so it was now that our diminished contact made me see how much I had enjoyed the simple closeness of our friendship. There was something special about a friendship that spanned so many years. There was a familiarity there that was absent from any interaction with the people I had met in my new existance as Tom Badgerlock. Despite all the preparations and the worry over the Piebald threats, or perhaps because of them, I would make time to appreciate that friendship.

A tiny voice in the back of my mind still bade me to consider that perhaps the Fool had never been my friend. That the Fool persona being presented to me even now, was still no more than an act to appease me, or worse, that I was being used to fill a role in some mad delusion as Chade had suggested. There were times late at night when I would listen to that voice and consider the possibilities. Those times were more frequent now that the time I spent in the Fool's company was less, but such thoughts would be banished by a secretly shared glance or a meal or conversation together. Was I still being deceived if I chose to go on believing that it was not a lie? In the times that I did listen to that voice, I would conclude that madness was more likely than a delibrate deception that lasted nearly thirty years, or at least it was more paletable.

I voiced none of these doubts to the Fool, and I told myself that they were groundless. The White Prophets apparently had a large following far to the south, and really, was prescience any less plausible than the magic of the Skill that I had grown up accepting? To an outsider, I was sure the Skill would seem just as foreign.

I stepped into the room after pausing to listen for the serving boy, Bramble. I opened the door a crack and peered in before emerging fully. My eyes widened in shock. Lord Golden's chambers had always been lavishly decorated, but at least the previous opulence had been limited by good taste. Here was a new decadence that could not have been more astonishing if the Fool had littered the floor with gold and precious gems. Truly Lord Golden had been busy in the last week. The young nobleman in question turned to me from a mound of gaudily embroidered cusions that must have had a divan hidden somewhere beneath it. His face was painted elaborately in the Jamailian style and his robes were distinguished from the cushions only by virtue of being even more gaudy. "Fitz!" The Fool exclaimed and some how rose from the plethora of cushions to stand before me, eyes sweeping over my person rapidly, " What is it? What's happened? What's wrong?" 

I blinked at the rapid onslaught of questions and at the gloved hands that were plucking at my clothing, " Um. Nothing, Fool, to all questions." I was bewildered, " Why? What's got you so excited?"

The Fool looked at me for a moment longer, her eyes wide, white-rimmed, golden saucers, then exhaled and deflated in apparent relief. " Nothing, Fitz, to your questions as well. Nothing at all."

"It is unlike you to be so anxious," I pressed, confused, " What troubles you?" 

The Fool's mouth opened and her spine straightened as she prepared some eloquently spoken denial, then she shut it again and sighed, a rueful smile twisting her lips, "Just a dream, Fitz. Or more Dream than dream, but I have not worked it out yet." 

I frowned, and studied my friend. Beneath Lord Golden's cosmetics the Fool looked tired, "Have you not been sleeping well?" 

She smirked, "On the contrary, I have been sleeping very well. Too well. Even when I wish to awaken I cannot, and even awake my visions find me. It has been most inconvenient for Lord Golden's socializing. But now tell me, Fitz, what brings you to my humble chambers? Surely it has not been so long that you've come for a bit of nostalgia? Or could it be that you could not bare to be parted from me?" She batted her eyelashes.

Her jest made me feel childish for having missed her company and I rolled my eyes at the theatrics, biting back perhaps a bit more sharply than necessary with, "I do talk with other people, you know." 

The Fool was unruffled and moved to sit back down by the hearth, "Oh, of course you do, Fitzy, but none of them are as charming company as I. Believe me, I know. Just yesterday I had to sit through Lady Songbird telling me of her last visit to Farrow, and allow me to assure you that her tale was neither as entertaining to listen to nor as melodious as her name would imply."

I joined her, tossing aside a fat cushion to make room for myself, "Sounds... lovely." I could think of very few things that appealed to me less, and most of those involved bloodshed.

The Fool gave a grimace that echoed my sentiments, "Yes, well I suppose it is a price that I must pay if I am to maintain my masquerade." 

"And what of all this mess?" I queried, gesturing with a sweep of my arm to the gaudy display of wealth that had once been the sitting room.

My friend surprised me by looking so honestly wounded by my words that I felt moved to apologize, despite how ostentatious I found the decor. She fixed me with wide amber eyes for a moment, then looked aside as she asked, " Don't you like it, Fitz?"

I answered before I could help myself, confused by the reaction I was getting, "Like it? It looks like the chamber of some hybrid between Regal and a magpie!"

The Fool looked mortally offended, "Is that what you think of me then? You would compare me to the uncle who had you beaten to death?" 

"I- " I faltered, " It's not- I have no eye for this sort of thing, Fool. I meant no offense, I just- well, I grew up in the stables and.. " 

To my horror, the Fool ducked her head and brought a gloved hand to her mouth. I thought that I had offended her to tears, but when she looked at me, her eyes sparked with laughter and she dropped her hand to reveal her grin. I glared as she began to laugh openly, " Too easy, Fitzy." 

I glared and shoved her good-naturedly so that she toppled onto one of the cushions. She swept it up and swatted me with it. A small battle ensued before we were interrupted by Bramble. By the way he stared at us as he set out Lord Golden's breakfast, our faces flushed and our hair in disarray on the divan, I had no doubt that in his mind, we had just confirmed every rumor the lad had ever heard about his master and his master's former serving man. I was not even supposed to be there. As soon as the lad scurried, red faced, from the room, we both burst into laughter. It felt good to laugh, and I felt the tension that had been building in my muscles melt away.

"It's all just part of Lord Golden's image." The Fool confided as though our brief battle with the cushions had never occurred, " Really, Fitz, I thought you knew me better than that! I have much better taste."

"That's what I thought until you looked about to burst into tears." I defended myself, " If anything is to blame, it's your acting abilities." 

She preened, "Impressive, aren't I?"

"Very. Shall we eat?" 

The Fool agreed and we sat down to our first shared meal in a week. The quantity of food was the same as when I had been Lord Golden's serving man, and I wondered what the Fool did with the excess now that I was no longer taking meals with her. 

"You never told me what brought you down here, Fitz." The Fool observed as she set down her tea cup and refilled it, "More tea?" 

" No, thank you, and I just thought that it had been a while since we'd taken breakfast together." I explained, "I was thinking of taking the morning off to go to the market anyway, and I thought that I would stop here first."

The Fool smiled, "There were a few things that I thought I might buy as well. I had been planning to send the serving boy, but if you're going, perhaps we could go together?"

My eyebrows rose. It seemed wrong to deny my closest friend, but I did not want to explain just yet that I was buying a gift for the daughter I had essentially abandoned for 16 years. It would also be awkward if I stopped to visit Hap or especially Jinna. "Would it not seem odd for Lord Golden to be out in the market with his old serving man? I am not in your employ any longer and we hardly move in the same circles..." Some of my reluctance must have shown on my face, because the Fool frowned, and I softened my protest by offering, " If you like, you could give me a list of what you want and I could get it for you? I could bring it back by dinner time and we could talk some more then." 

My attempt at a compromise did not seem to have worked, for the Fool's frown still creased her brow and made her eyes the colour of dark honey. I thought that she would give in and accept that I had my reasons for not wanting her along, but some reason must have motivated her to stubbornness. "If you are worried about being seen with Lord Golden, then it is simple enough for me to disguise myself."

I spoke bluntly, " Fool, I'm sorry, but I would rather go alone. I'll still buy whatever it is that you wanted from the market, but could we go together another time?" 

The Fool stared for a moment and then nodded, accepting that I would not be convinced, "Very well, Fitzy. Could you please pick up an ink that I've had set aside for me as well as a good quantity of vellum?" 

"The price of veal in Buckkeep will be going down soon; they'll have to start butchering even more to keep up with your demand for good vellum."

"All the better for Cook, I suppose." 

"Right. I'm sorry Fool, I just -" 

"Hush, Fitz. There's no need to apologize for wanting time to yourself." 

I looked down at my plate. Her words were true, so why did I feel guilty? My eyes widened as I recalled something long forgotten. Something that might cheer the Fool. " Fool. Wait there. I can't believe I forgot. Stay there." 

I rose and hastily went into my servant's chamber, where I triggered the entrance to Chade's spy network. The Fool's eyes followed me, curiously, until I was out of sight. I hoped that Chade had not found and moved the feathers that I'd collected on the beach. I hurried along the passages as quickly as the narrow spaces would allow me. I thought that I heard Gilly scuffling in one of the branching corridors, but he did not join me and I didn't call him. 

The workroom was empty when I entered it, though Thick had set out tea and breakfast foods for Chade and replentished the firewood. The scent of the tea was spicy, the same that Lord Golden and I had been served, and though I hadn't cared for the taste, the smell itself was pleasant. A fire danced merrily in the hearth, at odds with all of the death that was planned and prepared in this room. Searching my memory, I went through several old scrolls before I found what I was looking for. I stared at them for a moment. There were five in all, all carved from the same oddly heavy, gray wood. Each individual rib of the feather was carved, and I was awed by their simple beauty. At the same time, those objects woke an inexplicable uneasiness in me. I had been surprised that I could have forgotten the feathers for so long, but now that I had them before me, I was oddly reluctant to touch them. It made no sense, and I forced myself to gather them up and make my way back down to my servant's chambers, the whole time feeling as though I should drop the feathers to be forgotten with the dust in the passages. I was sure that they would please the Fool though, and so I kept them.

I emerged into Lord Golden's chambers some minutes later and was surprised to see that the Fool was gone. The Fool had always been invisible to my wit, and I had never been able to sense her through our Skill bond as she claimed to be able to feel me, so I relied on my eyes as I scanned the room. It was empty. I stood dumbly for a few moments, wondering why the Fool would go when I said to stay, and then sighed. I had become accustomed to this more adult version of the Fool, though she looked no older than she had when she'd rode off on Girl on a Dragon, but the Fool of my childhood would often disappear unexpectedly. I would turn to ask a question, or some offended youth would give chase, and my friend would have vanished. So, it was not unthinkable that she would have disappeared now, but it was unexpected. I crossed to her bedchamber and tapped on the door. "Lord Golden?" I queried, hesitant to refer to her otherwise in case she was not alone. There was no response.

Fine then, I frowned to myself after several moments of waiting. I was irrationally angry as I stormed out, and I shut the door more loudly than necessary. The feathers I kept tucked into my jerkin. I think that the effort involved in even touching the things made the Fool's unexpected departure all the more irritating. I retrieved my sword, the servicable blade I'd chosen rather than the Fool's flashy gift to me, as well as my purse, and then departed. After I noticed several people give me a wide berth in the corridors, I smoothed my features into neutrality. I debated reporting to Marshcroft that I would be gone that day, but in my anger I decided not to bother. The guards were used to my coming and going. Let Chade sort it out if people became suspicious.

My temper lasted until I was half way down the hill road to Buckkeep town. The cool air was pleasant and it took the heat from my anger. I took a deep breath, sighed it out, and looked down at the town I had known for so many years. It clung to the cliffs stubbornly and had spread to where once there had been forested hills. It was incredible how much could change in under two decades. The keep road was livelier as well. I walked by a group of lady's maids with their market baskets on their arms, a lad drove a merchant's cart by me, and a glance behind me showed a handful of kitchen girls giggling and pages entrusted with errands for their masters. Cautiously, I expanded by wit awareness of the world. I could sense the small creatures and birds nearby, but these were the only humans. Good. I scolded myself for allowing my anger to lead to carelessness; I had been blind to the world around me for much of the walk from the keep. A Piebald could have attacked and I would have been unprepared. 

When I reached the market, I was again surprised by how busy it had become. It was easy to kill someone in a crowd and slip away unnoticed, especially if the target was distracted, and I kept alert as I made my way among the stalls and carpets laden with wares. I would not be a target today. People from all stations of life jostled by, and the smell of the people, spices, cooking food, and salt air filled my nose. The market in winter was not as full as it was in the summer or fall, nor were the goods particularily varied, but there was still a demand, and people sold what they could. Goods from Bingtown in particular, were being sold for exorbitant prices thanks to the continuing war with Chalced. The magical goods prickled oddly against my Skill-sense, and I was at once curious and wary of them. I had heard tales of the fantastic things that could be found in Bingtown, and the Fool had given me rich descriptions of artifacts that were beyond imagining. They were not what I'd come to the market for, though, and I would not be distracted.

Despite my lingering annoyance, my first stop was to buy ink and vellum for the Fool. The shop keeper recognized me, which gave me mixed feelings, and was quick to give me Lord Golden's ink in a well stoppered and sealed pot. This he wrapped in a bit of cloth and placed into a small pouch as he explained how rare an ink it was, and how difficult to create. He had saved it especially for Lord Golden despite several other customers asking for it. I gave the man an extra half silver, and also bought a good quantity of his best vellum for what was, I felt, more than it was worth. One of the hazards of having a wealthy master, I supposed. Word had apparently not yet spread that I'd left his service., or perhaps the Fool had let the merchants know that I would still fetch for him occasionally. I managed to escape the little shop before I was talked into spending any more money, and I almost knocked over a rag woman in my haste. Some of her wares spilled into the snow. She was a fiersome looking, grey haired woman, and she glared at me as she scooped up a few fallen bits of clothing and oily looking scraps of cloth with her talon like hands. I stooped down to help her, but was jostled by another passer by, and nearly stumbled into the woman again. She spat at my boots and then hobbled away. I saw a few market goers smiling to themselves at the scene.

"Begging your pardon." Apologized a voice from behind me, and I turned to see a girl, probably about Nettle's age, with long dark hair and a forest green cloak hurrying in the other direcition. I sighed. A few people glanced my way curiously, but the spectacle was over.

A greedy shop keeper and a bit of embarrassment were not going to stop me from enjoying my day at the market. After so long being cooped up in the keep, it felt good to be outside of its walls. I straightened my back, squared my shoulders, and wound my way through the passing shoppers, intent on finding a red scarf for Nettle. Winter was almost over now, but she would have the use of it for some weeks yet if it could be delivered promptly. I thought that I saw Thick at one point in my quest for the scarf, collecting his pennies from a cloaked and hooded woman in Buck blue. She seemed young, and I wondered what she thought of being given the task of caring for the half-wit. Sada, I thought I recalled hearing the name of his carer.

In the end, several hours had passed and I sat at a tavern sipping a mug of ale, content now that I'd gotten what I'd come for. The scarf I'd found was soft and dyed the vibrant red of a summer rose. It seemed to be a good quality, too, and I hoped that she would have it for some time. Just in case, I bought her one in green as well. I shook my head at myself. My daughter was wise to want to pick and choose carefully, but for something as simple as a scarf, I saw no reason why she should not have both. I thought of buying her a necklace, or some earrings, or a bottle of scent, something that would please a girl her age, but I restrained myself. I did not want to seem like I was trying to buy my daughter away from Burrich, and surely to Nettle, such largess from a relative stranger, an older stranger, I thought ruefully, would be looked on with suspicion. Instead, I bought a good belt knife for Hap, and a spring cloak that I thought would look lovely on Jinna. I hoped it was not too forward a gift from me. Truely, I did not feel the deep passion for her that I had felt for Molly. I did not think that I was in love with her, but perhaps I could fall in love with her in time, and finally have that warm hearth to come home to on a cold day. I bought some fish for Fennel, and made my way to her shop.

When people began running past me with buckets, I was curious, and when I smelled smoke in the air that was not from cooking meat in the market, I broke into a trot.

When I saw that her shop was on fire, I ran. 

I pushed my way through the gathered crowd of people who were either gawking or helping to put out the blaze. Dimly, I saw that the pony had been freed from the shed, and I was glad, but I saw no sign of Jinna. I cast my gaze about wildly, " Jinna!" I called, " Jinna!"

"I'm here, Tom." Came an answering voice, and I spun to pull her into my arms, dropping my packages into the trampled snow. I breathed in her scent, full of fear and smoke, and I held her at arms length to look her over for injuries. 

"Jinna, are you alright? What happened? Where is your niece?" There were tears running down her cheeks, but no other sign of injury.

"Oh, Tom..." She said, her near-sighted eyes flickering over my face. I took up the cloak that I'd bought her and wrapped it about her shoulders. She clutched it, gratefully, and I saw that her hands trembled. 

" Jinna! Tom!" Hap skidded to a halt beside us, panting for breath, " Is everyone alright? What happened?" He echoed my previous questions.

In answer, Jinna pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from a pocket in her dress. She held it out to me, and I took it with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The noise of the crowd around us faded into the background along with Hap's urgent queries as I unfolded the parchment. There was no message. There was nothing but the image of a Piebald horse. I stared at it for a moment and then pocketed it myself. Chade would want to see it, the practical portion of my mind insisted. I looked back at her burning shop, squinting my eyes. The fire was under control now, but the damage was done. I stepped away from Jinna, ignoring Hap's demands for answers, and let my eyes travel over the faces in the crowd. Would they still be here? Would I know them if they were? I growled in frustration and began to circle the remains of the building. In the snow behind the shop was an unburnt scrap of rag, sodden with oil. I snatched it up too, and pocketed it, my face set in a near snarl. That old woman. She had probably used more to start the blaze and dropped some rags in her haste fleeing the scene. The rest she'd kept, but this one had escaped her notice.

I made my way back to Jinna feeling both numb and alert. My face was set and I scanned the crowd warily, memorizing every face, taking note of each one's reaction to the burning shop, taking special note if anyone looked too long in my direction. Hap had gathered up my parcels and was using one free arm to pat Jinna on the back, comfortingly. He looked up at me as I approached.

" We're leaving. Come on." I spoke. I guided them away from the still burning shop as I did so. My voice was hard, and I sounded more like a commander than a concerned loved one. I softened my voice, but could not keep the edge of steel from it. " Hap, you're coming with me to the keep. I will send a letter to Gindast explaining everything, so don't worry about your apprenticeship. Jinna, you should come too, but I won't force you if you have somewhere else you'd feel safe." 

Jinna looked at me. I saw fear there, and not just for the Piebalds, " Tom... They came to me last night. They asked me questions about you. They knew that you'd visited me in the past, and that I'd been to see you up in the keep while you were ill. They wanted to know when I'd last seen you and if you might be coming back... They said you were a traitor..." Tears fell again from her eyes, " I didn't tell them anything and they left. I thought they were done with me."

My guts were ice inside my belly as I led Jinna and Hap through the town, " What did they look like, Jinna? Did you see them outside today?" 

She shook her head slowly, still looking dazed, and I felt guilty for questioning her. "Two men, a woman, and a boy. They were just ordinary people, Tom. The woman, she spoke with an accent, but the rest were from Buck, I think. Dark haired, dark eyed..."

That eliminated precisely no-one, but I didn't press her for more details. Not yet. Let us get somewhere private first. I guided the two of them back to the keep, eyes, ears, wit, and Skill alert for any danger from the crowd. If I saw the rag woman, I knew that I would have killed her, but of her, there was no sign.

It was a long walk back to the keep with my distraught companions. I kept every sense alert for threats, but none appeared. The cold chilled me to my bones and my heart hardened like ice. I would show no mercy to the Piebalds. I would hunt them, and I would destroy them.


	15. Puppets

The day seemed colder than when I had first left for town, and the chill only worsened my temper. I kept an arm protectively around Jinna as we made our way back to the keep, my hand on her waist. The other hand was on the hilt of my sword. We were unquestioned as we passed through the gates. The guards recognized me, and I think that they assumed that Jinna and Hap were my wife and son. The expression on my face may also have played a role in discouraging any questions from curious guardsmen, because my mood was black and I'm sure that it looked as though I was preparing for murder. I was.

Hap was unaware that our lives were still in danger, and he gaped and gawked at the castle and the passing nobles. I didn't slow my pace to allow him time to look his fill, and I only stopped once we were in Lord Golden's chambers. I didn't think that the Fool would mind, and it was the only place that I felt they would be completely safe. I wanted to keep them close, and for months these chambers had been my home. The work room would have been equally safe, I supposed, but to get there, I would have had to reveal the spy passages. Lord Golden's chambers it was. Hap had been there once before, visiting me when I was still recovering from the Skill-healing, but still his jaw dropped at the lavish new decorations. "Wait here." I instructed them.

Hap turned his wide eyes to me, "What if Lord Golden comes back?" 

"Then you greet him politely and tell him that I told you to wait here for me." I instructed him. 

Hap looked dubious, but took a seat in one of the hearth-side chairs, setting the packages down on the floor. Jinna followed his lead but delayed me by asking, "Where are you going, Tom?" There was an odd note in her voice that I attributed to shock.

"I have to report what's happened and make some arrangements. Do you think that you would like to stay here for a time? I'm sure that you would be welcome. Your niece too." My eyes widened, "Should I go to look for her? Tell her where you went?" 

Jinna shook her head, holding the cloak more tightly around herself despite the warmth of the chambers, "She's in the next town.. She'll be so shocked when she comes home... But that's not why I stopped you. I think that we should talk. Before you go to make arrangements." She looked up at me and there was accusation in her eyes, "Those people were looking for you, Tom. They couldn't find you so they burnt down my shop. I want to know why." 

I glanced from her to Hap. He was following the conversation avidly, "Perhaps we should talk later, Jinna. This is important. I need to report what happened so that the town guard can catch the people who did this." 

"I want to talk now, Tom, and those people will be long gone." Her nearsighted gaze met mine directly, "They said that you were a murderer. That you were killing the witted, your own kind, for the Farseers." 

"I killed theives, Jinna. They meant my Prince harm and I would have killed them whether they were witted or not." 

Hap rose to my defense, not batting an eye at the confirmation that I was witted, "Jinna, how could you say that? You know Tom! He would never do such a thing, he's a good man!"

As much as I was glad for his defense, it stung to know that I was not worthy of it. I had been younger than him when I had first killed for my king. I felt worse knowing that I was about to lie. "Thank you, Hap. Jinna has a right to wonder though, and she deserves to be able to ask her questions. Jinna, do you understand that I just did my duty? If those people were Piebalds, I didn't know it when I killed them, and when the horse went crazy, it was unfortunate, but it also needed to be killed. Even if I had known at the time that they were Piebalds, they threated my Prince and I felt sure they would have killed him. I killed them first. I'm sorry that it led to the Piebalds making you a target. I wish that I could have protected you from that and I had no idea that it would come to this. I'm not a murderer, just a guardsman doing his job." 

Throughout my explanation Jinna stared at me as though I was a stranger. I could see her considering my words and weighing them against her doubt and her fear. She looked away from me, down at her lap, "I don't know, Tom... " 

I stood for a moment longer and Hap looked back and forth between the two of us as the silence stretched. I sighed and nodded, "I'll be back. If Lord Golden comes back, please tell him that I'll return shortly. Don't worry, he won't mind that you're here."

Hap nodded, and Jinna ignored me, staring into the fire. I wondered if she saw her shop in the flames. I left the chambers and shut the door behind me, then entered the spy passages by the pantry entrance. I needed to speak to Chade, and Kettricken as well. The first, I could not find in his work room, so I turned my efforts towards finding Kettricken. _Dutiful?_ I skilled out, standing in empty work room by the scarred table. Unfurled scrolls were strewn over it, and my eyes traveled over them out of habit. Chade had been studying the Skill, and he had also been reading some old Outislander legends for mentions of Icefyre. There was also a herbal and a scroll on the properties of various metals. It was not unusual for Chade to have scrolls on so many topics laid out at once. For one who so meticulously managed the lives of everyone in the court, he was rather disorganized in his work. As a child I had often been given the task of tidying up after his experiments. Chade was an enthusiastic researcher, and his interests were varied. The spread of the papers reflected the shifts in his attention as the night wore on.

_Tom, what is it?_ Dutiful replied, curiously.

_I need to speak with Queen Kettricken. It's urgent. Can you pass on the message and have her tell you where we should meet and when?_

_I can do that. What happened? Is everything alright?_

If it had been Prince Verity, I would have reported to him in full without hesitation. Prince though he was, Dutiful was still young in my eyes. _There was another Piebald attack. No one was hurt, though. I'll explain in full later. Can you get that message to your mother?_

There was a pause before Dutiful responded. _She says to meet her in her audience chamber in about fifteen minutes. Now can you tell me what happened, since you'll be waiting anyway?_

I re-entered the passageways and began making my way to Kettricken's audience chamber. It was a complicated and winding route, but I could recall the path I'd taken the last time I'd been there. _A friend of mine was attacked. Her shop was burnt down after she refused to give the Piebalds information about me. A picture of a Piebald horse was left at the scene. Apparently they've been saying that the Farseers are ordering witted people killed in secret, and that was why I killed Laudwine and the others._

I could feel Dutiful's scoff in his skilled response. _That's absurd. My mother has been working tirelessly to improve people's opinion of the witted. Why do that if she would kill the witted in secret? It would be easier to let the people carry on in their persecution of Old Blood._

_I don't know, Dutiful. But I cannot let innocent people continue to suffer while I do nothing._ I cut off our contact, despite the lad's curiosity, and stepped into the audience chamber.

Kettricken herself arrived moments later. She was as simply, but elegantly, dressed as ever in her white and purple. Her fingers, arms, and hair were unadorned. She smiled at me when she saw me, but I could see her tiredness in the circles under her eyes and the new lines forming on her face. I felt guilty that I would rob her of time that she could be taking to rest or to make progress in resolving the troubles that plagued her. She walked a fine line to continue her negotiations with Bingtown without giving offense to the Outislands. Our journey to Aslevjal was fast approaching, a journey in which her only son and Verity's heir would be embarking into formerly hostile territory to slay a supposed dragon. On top of that, danger came from within her own Six Duchies in the form of the Piebalds. There truly was no peace for our kind Queen who should have had a King to reign beside her. Fair and kind-hearted she may be, this was still the woman who had poisoned me because she suspected, rightfully so, that I had come to assassinate her brother, Rurisk. The princess who had come to a foreign court in a time of war, ridden along side its soldiers more than once, and emerged it's Queen. The wife who had journeyed long through snow, storms, and uncertainty to find her husband. Though I wished keenly that she did not have to shoulder the many burdens that came with her crown, I knew that she carried them well and was a woman with strength enough for the task. I bowed. 

Kettricken smiled at me in fond exasperation, " FitzChivalry, you know that there is no need for such formality between us. Sit." 

I straightened and took a seat. Kettricken sat down opposite me, "Dutiful said that you needed to speak to me urgently, so I will not trouble you with small talk. What was it that you needed to tell me?" Her blue eyes shon with worry, and I knew that it was not solely for my benefit that we proceeded directly. 

I began by giving her the gist of the situation before fleshing out the details, as I wished Chade would have done for me in the past when explaining an event. "There's been an attack in Buckkeep Town by the Piebalds. It was not on a large scale; a single shop was set afire, and I have no reason to believe that the townspeople know that Piebalds were behind the attack. However, it seems to have been made in response to the owner's refusal to give them information about me." I watched Kettricken's face grow grave as I relayed to her all that Jinna had told me about the Piebald's visit to her home. I went over details as she requested, and gave her my thoughts as she prompted me.

When I was done, she spoke, "That is indeed distressing to hear. As sacrifice, it pains me that I have been unable to stop these attacks. It is also worrying that the Piebalds are still striking here in Buckkeep so close to the arrival of the Old Blood delegates. We are fortunate that Jinna escaped unharmed."

"Others were less fortunate," I pointed out, "Since I killed their leader, the Piebalds have been attacking more frequently than ever. It is clear that they will not stop until they've taken their revenge on me. I'm sick of people dying while I sit here and hide. I ask you now to let me go, as I should have from the beginning. Let them think they have won their revenge and give me to them. I am not so easy a man to kill. I will eliminate the threat once and for all." 

"You are a true sacrifice for your people, FitzChivalry. That you would give yourself up to the Piebalds rather than see your people suffer shows that, and I know that you are capable of defending yourself. However, Chade has warned me that you would desire to take such action, and I will ask you to consider several of the things that he has pointed out to me. If we give you up to the Piebalds, they may suspect such a plot from the beginning and disarm you. The Piebalds seek more than your death. The Piebalds seek to destroy the Farseers completely. If you are killed, we will have lost much and gained nothing. Or, you may kill them, but more Piebalds may remain in other locations. Who is to say that they will not take up the cause again? There is no guarantee that such a gambit would be worth the risk." Kettricken folded her hands on her lap as she spoke, "Something that Chade forgets, but that you will find important, is that you were not the only one involved in Laudwine's death, though certainly you were the main player. Lord Golden would also need to be turned over. Would you be able to protect both him and yourself while eliminating your enemies?"

I paused as I considered her words, "Once I am taken I can Skill Dutiful our location. That is one thing that the Piebalds would not count on. Guards could be ready to assist us."

"A similar solution occurred to me, but how would we explain it, and what would we tell the guards? The people of the Six Duchies see no distinction between Piebalds and Old Blood. If it becomes known that we are sending men out to hunt and kill the witted, all of the work that has been done to protect the Old Blood will have been undone and I will be seen as a hypocrite by both sides."

"Chade has men that I am confident could be discreet. No one need know."

"There is still no guarantee that all of our enemies would be eliminated. By givnig in to their demands once, we would be giving them the power to demand even more. Furthermore, by giving you over, are we not admitting that it was a lie that you protected Dutiful and Civil from thieves that night?" 

"Tell them that I lied to you about them being thieves."

"And then how would I explain my son and his friend meeting with the witted in the middle of the night?" 

"A coinsidence. They were out hunting."

Kettricken smiled at my ready replies, " FitzChivalry, you are indeed Chade's student, with all of these lies. Would it not be better to be upfront with our people? Explain that the Piebalds are traitors to the crown and the common enemy to witted and unwitted alike? The people would be pleased to have their villain to fight, and the witted would become our allies." 

I shook my head, a bit stung by her comment and perhaps insulted. Chade and I were not so alike. "Witted could then be killed for being Piebalds whether they were or no. By allowing the killing of the Piebalds you would give some of those who feel strongly that the Witted should be purged from our society the ability to kill without fear of repercussion. It is hard to prove that someone is a Piebald. That is why it is better to let me go to them. I would see for myself who our enemy is and be able to guide Chade's men to the right targets. It could be done quietly that way, with no need to excite the ordinary citizens." 

Kettricken sighed, "You feel strongly about this. I admit that it is our best option for taking a strike back at the Piebalds. We do not know our enemies, and that makes them more dangerous to us... I will bring your proposal to Chade. Will this satisfy you?" 

"Chade is not the king." 

"He is not. But he is advisor to me, though he often forgets that. If he can give me a good reason to deny you, then I must hear it, for I would not see you put in unnecessary danger after all of the sacrifices you have made for the Farseers. Rest assured that if he cannot, then I will support you whether he agrees or not." 

I inclined my head gravely to her words. Despite her previous arguments, I could see in her face that she longed as much as I did to take action against those who had tried to harm her son, " Thank you, my Queen." 

A pained smile, "You would thank me for sending you into danger? Again and again we use you. How can you not resent that you have been taken from your well earned rest?"

Her question gave me pause, because I was not sure myself. I did resent that my life had never been my own. I resented that I had no part in the raising of my daughter. My heart ached when I thought that perhaps Nighteyes would yet live had I not been born a Farseer bastard. Did the fault lay with fate, or was the fault in me? Should I have fought harder to be free of my role as apprentice assassin? If I had gone to Molly instead of to kill Regal how different would things be? When I thought of all of the possible paths that my life could have taken, a part of me did believe that I was the Fool's catalyst. Another part of me disagreed though. All of those actions of mine had seemed so inevitable. These thoughts were useless though. There was no one else who could do this task, and I was not sure that I would wish it on another man, so I spoke the words that would secure Kettricken's agreement with my plan.

"It is my duty as a Farseer, my Queen, to serve my people no matter what the cost."

A smile like relief and sadness in one spread across Kettricken's face and she stood to cross to my chair and embrace me. I stood so that she would not need to lean awkwardly. She was tall, and she spoke softly by my ear, "FitzChivalry, nephew. I am proud to say that you share the blood of my husband and son."

I returned her embrace, "You honour me, Kettricken."

When I returned to Lord Golden's chambers, it was to Jinna sitting in her chair where I'd last seen her, and Lord Golden and Hap sitting at the hearth, bits of wood and tools between them. Hap seemed cautious of the young nobleman, but Lord Golden was calm and engaging as he demonstrated some technique to my boy. All of the embroidered cushions were ignored, and Lord Golden sat cross legged on the floor with not a care at all for his fine clothes. He held his carving tools in his long, nimble fingers with great familiarity as he taught, and Hap watched with rapt attention, despite his discomfort with their difference in station. I think that the Fool was making a new puppet. The firelight gave the scene a warm feel that was so at odds with the icy determination that had filled my heart that I felt as though I'd stepped into a portrait. Jinna caught me staring at them and raised her eyebrows at me. I walked over to her chair and she spoke to me, softly, "Have you finished making your arrangements?" 

"Yes. Or, nearly. I need to know what you would like to do. If you stay here or if you go on to somewhere else, everything will be provided. You need not worry about that. What matters is making sure that you're safe. Have you decided?" I looked down at her from where I stood, one arm on the back of her chair, then let my gaze drift back to the two before the fire.

Jinna followed my gaze and ignored my question, "They've been like that for about fourty minutes. I was surprised that we were not turned out immediately, to be honest, but Lord Golden remembered us. I for my charms and Hap for his rather memorable visits during your convalescence."

I did not let her distract me, but Hap chose that moment to put down the wood he'd been working with and approach us. I was fortunate that his thoughts were similar to mine, "Tom, you're back! Did you find out what's going to happen with Jinna now?" 

"That's what I'm trying to find out. Jinna, though I ask now, there's no rush for your decision. I know this has all been a shock to you. You can tell me when you've decided."

Lord Golden spoke up as he, too, rose from his place, "Excellent, Tom!" He praised me grandly, "It has taken some fourty or so years, but it seems you've finally learned how to speak to the fairer sex."

I bristled. It wasn't a time for jokes, and I glared at him. Hap chuckled.

Lord Golden continued to speak in my silence, and clicked his tongue at me, shaking his head ruefully, "That man never could take a jest gracefully, " He announced, then addressed me, "As it happens, I've already sent my serving boy off to organize rooms for these two, so you can pester your woman with questions later. The rooms will, of course, be in the upper floors of the keep. Even I could not manage to secure more elegant rooms for two commoners without exciting talk, but I suppose it will still be better than what they're used to."

My eyebrows rose in shock at his blunt rudeness. Even Hap looked surprised at the abrupt shift in character. Jinna was the one who spoke, stiffly, " Thank you, Lord Golden, for all of your understanding."

"No thanks are necessary at all," He dismissed with an extravigant flap of his hand, " Tom, call the boy back here and have these two shown to their rooms so that they may prepare themselves for dinner. I need to speak with you."

I gritted my teeth, "Jinna and I have things to discuss, sir."

"Actually, Tom," Jinna interrupted, rising, "It has been a tiring day. I think that it's a good idea."

Hap looked back to the hearth at the carving he had set aside. I could not tell what it was supposed to be. Lord Golden's tone softened as he continued, "Hap, why don't you return here after dinner? Just because you have been removed from your apprentiship for a time, does not mean that you should not keep up with your studies. You will have a chance to catch up with your father as well."

If Jinna noticed that she had not been invited, she did not speak out. Hap's face brightened and he nodded, " Thank you, sir!"

I sighed, defeated, and summoned Bramble to show Jinna and Hap to their rooms. When the door was shut and bolted behind them I rounded on the Fool, "What was the meaning of that, Fool? Jinna's shop's just been burnt down by Piebalds. Could you not have summoned up at least a scrap of kindness?"

Lord Golden huffed and straightened a cushion on the divan, "Allowing those commoners into my chambers was kindness enough, I think, to last me a life time."

I glared, "Fool. Stop this."

The Fool abruptly tossed the pillow aside and sank down into the divan, hiding her face in her hands, "What did you do, Fitz?" Her voice sounded as though she pleaded, "You've done something, I don't know what it is, but everything has tangled and shifted and changed. _Everything._ "

My residual annoyance with her made my query come out more harshly than I intended, "What are you talking about?"

The Fool's face tilted upwards out of her hands and her tawny eyes seemed to look through me as she answered, "Paths. Time. I could see them, everything, all of the futures branching out, and then suddenly everything shifted, like being on the deck of a ship during a storm. Everything rearranged. Futures closed and others emerged, not blossoming, but exploding into existance and bringing a thousand other paths with them. I had not - I don't... " She trailed off for a moment, then repeated her query, "What did you do?"

I was taken aback by the depth of emotion in her voice, and I could not bring myself to lie. I pulled the chair that Jinna had vacated over so that I could sit in front of the Fool, "I've asked Kettricken to give me up to the Piebalds." I explained, "I'm sick of doing nothing while people are dying for what I've done, and I'm sick of letting them get away with all of the other murders of Six Duchies folks. They're a danger to the Farseers. Once they have me I can either kill them myself or Skill to Dutiful so that he can send some of Chade's men to help eliminate the Piebalds."

The Fool listened to my explanation with wide eyes, and I felt a twinge of guilt as I confessed, "Kettricken thinks that they will want you too, since you were there when I killed Laudwine and the others. But don't worry, Fool, I won't actually let them take you. You-" 

I was cut off, "Where you go, I go, Fitz." Her wide eyed stare had turned stubborn, "I will not be left behind here."

"It will be dangerous for you. I have been trained in the ways of killing, and I have experience with combat. You do not. It would be more sensible to let me go and do away with them myself." 

"I will be going with you. Sensible or not, sensibility has never made much sense to me."

I met her gaze. It was not as difficult for me as it had once been, and though her eyes were still an unnatural colour, they were no longer so pale a blue as to appear white. The firelight danced in their depths and made them flicker yellow and gold. I would compare them to a cat's eyes, but she had always seemed more bird-like to me. I sighed. I knew there was no arguing with that look, so I gave in. "Very well, Fool..." It would be troublesome enough to keep myself alive, never mind her, but I would try. 

She smiled and stood, "Good." She made to walk towards her desk but I halted her with a hand on her arm.

"Wait. About Jinna. Could you try to show a little more kindness?" 

She said something then that puzzled me, "Why, Fitz?"

I blinked, "Why? Because she's just lost her home and much of her livelihood. Because she's my friend. Because it would be the decent thing to do."

She shook her arm free, but sighed as she agreed, "Very well, Fitzy. If it is that important to you."

I did not understand why such a thing would need an explanation, but let it go, "Thank you."

"You should convince her to go, you know."

More confusion, "But did not you yourself arrange rooms for them here at the keep?"

"Yes, but only because so many paths in which Jinna left tonight would have ended with her and her horse dead on the road. There were so few in which she lived, I thought it best to detain her here for a time." 

"That's actually kind of you, Fool." I felt guilty then at having berated her for her lack of sympathy, but that guilt did not last long.

"I was not being kind to her, Fitzy. If her death had led to a swift end to the Piebalds, I would have let it happen. With things as they are now, you have been offended just enough to take action, but have not been pushed into doing anything too terribly reckless. That's a relative measure, by the way. Some would consider giving us up to the Piebalds as reckless, but at least you aren't going out on horseback with your axe this moment and chopping down an old woman in the streets." 

This was just too much. "Just... try to be kind, Fool. I'm going to go find Hap and Jinna to show them to the lesser hall."

"Bramble can take care of them. I've put him at their disposal." The Fool cocked her head at me. 

"I think I would rather do it myself." I made my excuse and turned for the door. Before I left, I saw her withdraw a very familiar pot of ink from her pocket and set it on her desk. I reached to my belt where I had secured the pouch from the shop keeper. It was gone. 


	16. Apprenticeship

Despite the Fool's agreement to be kind to Jinna, a more accurate description of her behaviour in the days that followed would be 'avoidance'. That is not to say that she was obvious about it, leaving the room when Jinna entered, or ignoring her attempts at conversation, for example. I do not think that anyone else would have noticed anything amiss, and I even questioned my own mind, thinking that perhaps I was imagining things. I am sure now that such a description was fitting.

After dinner, we returned to Lord Golden's chambers. I think that Jinna would have preferred to retire early, but I was reluctant to let her out of my sight and so convinced her to have tea with us, at least. Lord Golden seemed to have embraced the novelty of having 'commoners' as his guests, because in our absense, two extra chairs had been hauled into the room and arranged a comfortable distance from the hearth, and a small table had been placed where he and Hap had been working on their carving. It was too low to be used comfortably from the chairs, so I supposed that they would be sitting on the floor. I was correct. Lord Golden rose from his writing desk and welcomed us back grandly. He hoped that we had enjoyed the Queen's hospitality and that we found the food to our liking. His words were polite, and his eyes skated over Jinna's and mine just long enough to indicate that he'd seen fit to notice our existance. Hap greeted Lord Golden enthusiastically, his shyness forgotten in his eagerness, and the two of them went back to work, sitting crosslegged at their small table with the tools spread between them. Not another word did Lord Golden say to Jinna or I. 

I looked awkwardly from him to Jinna and back again, then shrugged and gestured Jinna towards a chair.

"Really, Tom. I wouldn't want to intrude." Jinna protested, "And it has been a most tiring day. Perhaps you could walk me back to my rooms instead?"

I sighed and looked once more toward the hearth as the Fool explained something to Hap in hushed tones. Was it so much to ask that my two friends get along? Dinner had been awkward enough. I was not sure what Starling was doing in the lesser hall, but she had spied the three of us out immediately and spent much of the meal trying to make eye contact with either Hap or myself. Hap kept his eyes on his plate, and I pretended not to notice her questioning stares. Luckily, we had escaped before she could attempt to question us. Likely she smelled a tale, and I knew from experience how persistent she could be once she had decided to fish for details. Perhaps it would be more relaxing not to have to endure even more awkwardness. I suspected that the Fool was annoyed with me for some reason, and if she chose to experess it by ignoring my guest and I, then surely she could ignore us just as easily if we were upstairs. I nodded and turned back to the door, holding it open for Jinna to pass before me. I caught the Fool watching us leave, but I pretended not to notice.

Our foot falls sounded quiet in the castle's corridors, and the decorative plants and tapestries minimized the echo of voices. The strewing herbs were fresh, and the servants smiled politely as they passed us. No doubt there would be gossip about Tom Badgerlock and his woman come tomorrow, if there was not already. Our path led us up the stairway to the rooms of the servants and guests of lesser importance. We passed the path that led to my old room, and I felt the urge to stop and look at it. To see if anything had changed since the Witted Bastard had slept there. I knew that the hideous tapestry of King Wisdom and the Elderlings had been moved to grace the wall of my servant's room in Lord Golden's chambers. Rumor had it that the room was haunted by my spirit now, so I doubted that much had been disturbed. I was returned to the present by Jinna's hand on my arm, "This way, Tom."

I smiled sheepishly at having nearly walked right past her room. I stood awkwardly at the door way, prepared to wish her good night and depart if she wished to rest, but she ushered me in and I followed. The room had the bare minimum of furniture: a bed, a clothing chest, two padded chairs, and a table with an ewer of wash water and a basin. Bramble had been thoughtful enough to supply the room with firewood, and even had a pot of water set by the hearth, and some cups and jars of tea herbs on the table. Jinna spied them as well and set the water closer to the fire to heat for tea. I think that the familiar ritual in the unfamiliar surroundings comforted her.

"I do hope that Fennel is alright." Jinna commented, "He ran off during the fire."

"Cats are independant, and remarkably resilient. I'm sure that he'll be fine." I reassured her, them offered, feeling awkwardly aware of her knowledge of my wit, "I could go out tomorrow and look for him if you like?" 

Jinna smiled and shook her head, "Perhaps before I leave I'll spend a little time calling for him. He always comes back to the shop around dinner time, so it shouldn't be too difficult to find him. I just don't know how I'll get him to come with me all the way to Fairhills."

I frowned, "You're leaving then?"

Jinna took a seat on the bed, "Not right away, but soon."

"Why?" I protested, the Fool's earlier suggestion ringing protestingly in the back of my mind as I did so, "It would be no trouble at all for you to stay here. We could even have your shop rebuilt. There's no need to leave Buckkeep entirely."

A sigh, as Jinna explained to me in a low voice, "There's nothing here for me, Tom. Nothing that would make me stay in a place where my life might be in danger."

That stung a bit, though I was not sure why. I almost said 'I'm here', but recognized it as childish. She knew that when she said it. She must have read the thought in my face though, because she looked down at her lap and continued relentlessly, "And I don't know if I can trust you, Tom. I want to, Eda knows I do. When I first met you, I thought that you were a bit frightening, but as I got to know you I began to see a sweet, earnest, kind-hearted man who preferred a quiet life. I thought that I knew you and I even came to love you, a little bit." She smiled, sadly, "But in the last few months I've begun to see a different man than the one I had come to know. One who can kill another man and not lose a wink of sleep. One involved in things that I want no part of. I don't know if it is the animal in you, and please don't think me prejudiced when I say that, but whatever your reasons were, you killed three men. The man I thought I knew, I didn't think him capable of that."

"Of course I would kill to protect my Prince, Jinna. Would anyone stand by while two young boys were in danger of losing their lives? You cannot fault me for saving them."

"If they were thieves as you claim they were, then you could have given them what coin you had and then notified the town guard. The fact that Piebalds came to me looking for you tells me that it was more than just that. It also tells me that you're at worst a traitor and a murderer, and at best involved in something that has resulted in many Six Duchies citizens being killed. Being either one of those means that you lied to me." 

"I haven't lied to you, Jinna. Listen to me. Please. Yes, I killed those men, but I did it because I had to. I'm not some madman attacking people without a reason."

"I know you had _a_ reason, Tom. I'm sorry, but I don't think that I can let this become my life. I'd rather stay away from Buckkeep Town for a time."

I nodded, once, and looked away. I think that if I had truly loved her, I would have been gutted by her words. Another woman leaving because of the lies that surrounded me as a bastard Farseer. Would I never have a wife and children of my own, and a quiet life to live without secrets and lies? As it was, I felt cheated that I had not even had the chance to try to learn to love Jinna. Another opportunity stolen from me because of my service to the Farseers. I spoke softly, trying not to let my voice betray what I felt, "I'll have everything arranged."

"Thank you, Tom."

I stood awkwardly for a moment, then decided that it would be best if I left. I excused myself and left Jinna to finish making her tea. I walked back down the stairs with a heavy heart. Once, long ago, not long after I had been dragged back from death by Burrich and patiently restored to humanity, I had lashed out at him. I had, in my anger and frustration, given voice to words that sought his most vulnerable points as unerringly as one of my assassin's blades could have found his heart. Perhaps that would have been kinder. Child-like, I was cruel without restraint. I had mocked his loyalty to his king, the loyalty that had gotten him nothing but sacrifice and pain and loss in return. I'd thought him a coward for not taking a life of his own. For giving so much of himself to the Farseers that it cost him the love of Lady Patience and all of the years of his life that he spent caring for me, his Prince's bastard. I had lived to eat those words, and they tasted bitter. The angry boy that had shouted those words at the man that had raised him had grown to be a man who had also cared for another man's son, had also lost love and life for the Farseers. I understood that duty and loyalty now. Burrich had eventually gotten his simple life. I hoped that some day I could find mine. It clearly wasn't to be with Jinna.

Starling finally found me as I was coming down the stairs. She smiled the smile of a predator who'd sighted it's pray as she saw me, and seized me by the arm. If she'd been a cat, and I a mouse, I'm sure that I would have been seized in her jaws.

"So?" She demanded, "Who was that?"

"I thought you would recognize Hap, Starling."

"Don't play dumb, FitzChivalry. It suits you, but you know who I mean. The woman."

I looked up and down the stairway at her mention of my name, and was relieved to find it empty. "It's Tom, Starling, and she's a friend of mine."

Starling rolled her eyes at me, "Descriptive. There's no need to be so reticent with me, you know. I've already heard all the rumors. Jinna, the Hedgewitch from Buckkeep Town, shop burnt down in broad daylight. The talk of the keep is that you married her! You might have had me witness it, you know? I am a minstrel, and one of the Queen's favoured!"

I sighed, "If you knew who she was, why bother asking me? She isn't my wife, though. Just a friend from town. She'll be staying here a day or two and then moving on to Fairhills."

Starling's anger visibly deflated a bit at my explanation, and she actually began to smile as she walked along beside me, "Oh. Well, I knew that all along. You and I knew eachother for years, and not one offer of marriage from you." She laughed.

I didn't know how to respond, so I kept walking, knowing that she could never leave a silence unfilled.

Sure enough, she spoke again a moment later, "I know that's not all of it, of course. The guards said that you came in with a face like thunder. I don't think you'd be that angry at a friend for a tipped candle, so perhaps the fire was deliberate, hm? Not by her, by someone else?"

"Starling." I said, warningly.

She pouted up at me, apparently in a much better mood now that she didn't think that I was married, "I'm a minstrel, Tom! You know I can't resist something song-worthy, and song-worthy events always seem to follow you. Not while you were being a hermit, of course, but now that you're back in the real world, I'm sure you'll be creating the material for a hundred new songs."

"No songs this time, Starling. I'm just a servant turned guardsman."

"You don't have to hide it from me you know, I know that something has to be going on. Why else would you come back here? I know Counsilor Chade would have paid for Hap's apprentiship, so why did you lower yourself to being Lord Golden's servant?" She paused, then looked at me sideways, "Unless of course, the rumours really _were_ true."

At my silence, her eyes goggled and she grabbed my arm, "They weren't, were they? The servants were all saying that your serving boy walked in on you two, but I thought it was just nonsense!"

I shrugged my arm free and glared, "Of course they weren't true. You're being rediculous."

She sighed, "Well that's a relief. I was worried I'd struck true when I brought it up last time. You aren't still angry, are you? Is that why you won't tell me what's going on?"

I stopped walking to face her, I met her gaze directly and lied with skill born from years of practice, "There's really nothing going on, Starling. I am a man, and my pride wouldn't allow me to accept charity from Chade while I still have skills that I could put to use. I worked for Lord Golden to earn the apprentiship fee for Hap's education, and now I've been transferred to the Queen's Guard. The pay is better and what trouble could I see in a time of peace? If you're looking for a tale, you've come to the wrong man."

Starling narrowed her eyes at me, suspiciously, "And you just happened to rescue the Prince and Lord Bresigna from thieves in the middle of the night?"

"He's an eccentric man. We were after some bird that apparently only comes out at night. It was just coinsidence, Starling."

She huffed, frustrated, "And if you're not bedding with him, why do you continue to visit his chambers? A man that arrogant would never take a mere servant into his social circle."

"Turn you down, did he?" I asked, growing irritated with her pestering. We had ended our association with eachother months ago. Why did she think I owed her an explanation of my doings?

Starling flushed red, and I was surprised to find that I must have guessed right. The Fool must have taken great pleasure in that. I shook my head, "Starling, let it go. There's no mystery here, no song for you to sing. All I've wanted for years was a simple life, and I have that now. It brought me back to Buckkeep, but only as a guardsman named Tom Badgerlock. A man it wouldn't be appropriate for you to be speaking with alone together in the corridors. I'm sure your husband wouldn't like it."

She glanced up and down the corridor at my words, then caught herself and glared at me. I turned to walk away and she let me go, but not before calling after me, "I will find out what's going on, you know. You can't keep a secret from me! We've known eachother for too long."

"Good evening, Starling." I kept walking and didn't look back.

When I was out of earshot, I sighed. How had my day ended up like this? All I'd wanted was to buy a gift for my daughter. Would my life never be free of complications? I shut the door with a thud as I returned to Lord Golden's chambers, and slid the bolt home as though I could block my anger and discontent from following me. It didnt work, but the act did make me feel a bit better. So absorbed was I in my maelstorm of grievances that I was startled when Hap all but flung himself at me, clutching a bit of wood in one fist and latching onto my sleeve with the other.

"Tom! Why didn't you tell me that Lord Golden was the friend who'd carved all that stuff on our furniture? You could have apprenticed me to him instead of grumpy old Gindast! Look!" He thrust the bit of wood under my nose for my examination. At my bewiltered stare he explained, "Lord Golden is teaching me how to make a puppet! I know it doesn't look like much now, but that's because the pieces aren't all put together yet! Gindast doesn't let me do anything like this!" Hap looked up at me, expectantly.

I wasn't in the best of moods, and I responded with irritation in my voice, "You had your heart set on Gindast, Hap, and that's who took you on. Besides, I highly doubt that Lord Golden has the time to take on a student. He isn't a wood worker, he's a nobleman."

"Politics are not so different from puppet making." Lord Golden interjected, coming smoothly to his feet, "All you have to do is know how the pieces are put together and how to pull the strings." As if to demonstrate, he lifted a simple wooden man from the table. The thing was only about a foot tall, and he hung suspended from fine threads that connected to a set of wooden sticks in the Fool's hand. He expertly set the man to dancing on the table top.

Hap watched in admiration, then turned his face up to me, "He says he could teach me while we're here, Tom! But a few days while Jinna gets resettled isn't nearly long enough to learn everything! Please, won't you let me end my apprenticeship with Gindast and stay here instead? I hate turning wood and sanding other people's things all day, and making toys is so much more fun than making furniture! At least it's more fun than the way Gindast does it. Our rain barrel looked like it was plenty of fun. Oh, please, Tom?"

I looked from Hap to Lord Golden and back again, bewildered. How Lord Golden had won Hap's regard so quickly was a mystery to me. I admit that I knew a moment of uneasiness as I wondered if it might not be more dangerous for Hap to stay here. The Fool had said that she would have let Jinna ride off to her death if it led to a swift end to the Piebalds. Had she meant that? I found it hard to believe of my closest friend, but that brought all of my old doubts back to the surface. Was it all an act? Would the Fool put Hap in danger? The moment I caught myself doubting my friend, my spirits plunged from anger to despair. I could no longer trust her implicitly as I once had. Was there nothing in my life that I could trust to be simple and good? The Fool watched me from behind Lord Golen's eyes, and Hap's eyes pleaded up at me.

I wanted Hap to be safe. There were Piebalds in Buckeep Town. I nodded slowly, "You can stay here and learn from Lord Golden if he'll teach you for a time. I wouldn't advise giving up your apprentiship to Gindast, though. He has a good reputation and being his student could go far to help you in establishing your own business in the future. If I explain that family matters are keeping you away, he might keep your spot open for you."

Hap looked torn, "I understand that, but I'm sure that if I can do well enough, soon my work will speak for itself, regardless of who taught me! Lord Golden says that our lessons are to be a secret, since no one in the court knows that he carves in his spare time, but the things he makes are beautiful! If I could learn to do that, I'm sure I'd find work even if I could claim no master at all!"

I could not tell the lad that soon Lord Golden and I might not even be here, if the Piebalds made another move, but surely the Fool was aware of that. I looked at her, and spoke to Lord Golden as a man, rather than my former master, "Are you sure that you would be able to keep up with such a responsibility? An apprenticeship lasts years, not days, and you couldn't just abandon him if you decided to go off to Jamailia or got bored. If Hap gives up his apprenticeship to Gindast, it isn't likely that he'll be taken back."

Lord Golden sniffed distainfully, "The boy will be fine, Tom, you worry too much." Nevertheless, he crossed the room and gave Hap a kindly, if slightly condescending, pat on the head, “Listen to your father, Hap. He has your best interests at heart. The skills that you learn with Gindast would surely be valuable ones for a toy maker as well. I see no reason why you should not take advantage of that.”

“It’s boring.” Hap grumbled, but I could tell that he was considering Lord Golden’s words.

I spoke, “You have your whole life ahead of you, Hap. There’s no need to rush the decision.” I hoped that he would take my advice. He turned his nose up at the more tedious tasks of his apprenticeship, but no job was without its less pleasant aspects. He needed to learn patience, and to appreciate that everything he learned had it’s purpose. He wanted all of life’s pleasures now without putting in any of the necessary effort. Had I ever been so caught up in my own youth?

He nodded, grudgingly, to my words, then turned back to Lord Golden. “But you will still teach me while I’m here, won’t you? Even if it’s not for long?”

”Of course.” Lord Golden agreed, his manner suggesting that he was bestowing some great gift on the boy. Hap looked appropriately grateful, and I shook my head. The Fool was certainly an accomplished actress, and adept at manipulating others. When we had first rescued Dutiful from the Piebalds, she had been able to wring secrets from the boy with seemingly little effort. With Lord Golden’s influence and charm, she had won the hearts of nearly every noble at court. A word from her could elevate or ruin a man’s social standing. It was a valuable skill to have, a voice like Chade’s noted coldly in my mind, but only when it was not turned against me. Gradually, I was forming a new image of my friend in my mind. I was not sure if I liked the person that I was getting to know.

”I’m going to bed.” I announced, “Do you mind if I sleep here, Lord Golden?”

”You imagine that I have some use for that stuffy little chamber?” Lord Golden scoffed, “By all means, sleep there if you like. Though, I admit, I had expected that you might avail yourself of the lady’s company this evening.”

”No. I won’t be. Good night.”

I turned my back on them and entered my old room. I lit a taper, shut the door behind myself and sat on the edge of the cot with a sigh. I lay back and shut my eyes, willing the tumult of my thoughts to quiet. The Piebalds had attacked Jinna to get to me. Hap was in danger. I thanked Eda that none knew of Nettle. Jinna thought me a murderer; others likely agreed. Starling and apparently most of the servants thought that I was bedding with a man. She had suspicions about my true purpose at Buckkeep. Hap wanted to give up his apprenticeship to Gindast, and for some reason the Fool was encouraging him. 

I quit my enumeration of my worries when I felt a slight draft. My room was scarcely larger than a closet and had no windows. I opened my eyes to the dim candlelight. When I was a boy, I had often woken to a sudden draft in my childhood room. Chade would somehow open the entrance to the spy passages that would lead me to his workroom, and I would rise and join him there for my lessons in the assassin’s arts. It had been a long time since Chade had called on me that way, and I was momentarily confused as I stared at the entranceway to the passages. I glanced towards my door to see if the Fool had not perhaps followed me and triggered the secret doorway to open. No one there. I looked again towards the passage and rose, walking toward it cautiously. When no one was revealed to me by either my eyes or my wit, I started up the stairs.

Chade was waiting for me when I emerged into his workroom. He smiled when he saw me and gestured for me to sit, “Ah, Fitz! Good. I thought that you might appreciate a bit of nostalgia. I had no idea how I would get your attention if you’d chosen to spend the night with your Hedgewitch.”

I sat. “What did you wish to speak with me about, Chade?”

A derisive snort, “You demand that Kettricken give you over to the Piebalds and you ask me that?” I opened my mouth to defend my decision, but my old mentor held up a hand to stop me and continued, “I cannot say that I am fond of the idea, Fitz, but I admit that your plan has it’s merits. I do, of course, have men that could act discreetly on my word, but are you confident that you would be able to relay your exact location? Are you sure they would not kill you before the guards could arrive?”

”Kettricken spoke to you.”

”I have never been a fan of second hand information, Fitz. Too many details can be forgotten, and it is always what the messenger thinks they witnessed rather than what actually occurred that makes it’s way to my ears. No. Kettricken did not speak with me yet.”

”Then-“ I stopped before I could ask a stupid question. Of course. I had not found Chade in the workroom, but that did not mean that he could not have followed me and taken a place at the spy hole after I’d entered Kettricken’s audience chamber. Perhaps there was even another spy post for that room. I frowned.

He read me well, ”Oh, come. You cannot expect me to give up the habits of a life time. Now talk to me, Fitz. I am willing to entertain your proposal that you give yourself up, but I expect to be thoroughly convinced that it is a good idea before I let you do anything rash.”

I sighed, “You’ve apparently already heard all of my reasoning when I explained it to Kettricken.”

”I heard what you thought would convince her. Excellent touch with your comment about duty to the throne, by the by.”

”My reasoning remains the same, Chade. Give me up to the Piebalds. I will be armed with poisons and blades, and I will Skill our location to Dutiful. If they take me to one of their hide-outs, we will have not only information, but possibly hostages to interrogate or bargain with.”

Chade nodded and stroked his beard, “I had thought of this in the beginning, you know, Fitz. But I deemed it too risky. If you are killed, even if we gain hostages, we will have lost more than we will have gained.”

”How can you say that, Chade, when the Piebalds have already killed dozens of men? When they have threatened Dutiful? One life to save many, you have always taught me that it was only logical.” Of course, he had applied that reasoning for me in my days as an apprentice assassin. Was it wrong to kill a man when his death might save the lives of innocent Six Duchies citizens?

Chade sighed and leaned forwards in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. With his back hunched and his bony fingers laced before him, he looked decades older. “Perhaps I am growing soft in my old age. I do not wish to put you in danger. But more than an old man’s sentimentality, there is reason. You may not see the value in your own life, but you are a Farseer. Hidden, yes, but you still carry the blood of kings in your veins. Should Dutiful’s line fail, the crown would fall to you or your daughter, Nettle.”

”No one would follow the Witted Bastard, Chade. Especially not with public opinion toward Old Blood so hostile.”

”Humour me, Fitz. You know there are ways around that. You are also the Skill Master of Buckkeep. With your death, we would lose the only experienced Skill user among us, and you have always warned us that a novice can easily lose himself in the Skill. In addition to that, you are in the best position among us to negotiate with the Old Blood. It is too risky, just yet, to reveal Dutiful as witted. You, on the other hand, have been nearly deified by them. If necessary, revealing your existence to the Old Blood could be used to our advantage. Many of them already suspect you anyway.”

I would have preferred the old man’s sentimentality to this cold assessment of how my life could still be used for the benefit of the Farseer monarchy, even though it would have been less believable coming from Chade. I kept my silence for a time, contemplating my life as a game piece, before I found words to speak, “All I can do is try my best to stay alive. You know that this is our best chance at fighting back against the Piebalds. While the Piebalds may know that I am dangerous with a blade, they know nothing of my Skill. Nor do they know of my training as your apprentice. I hope to be able to use both of those things to bring them down.”

Chade sighed, “You will have to go well armed. I’ll prepare a set of poisons for you to bring along.”

I nodded my agreement. We both knew that I had all of the deadly herbs and recipes memorized, but I sensed that he felt he had more control over the situation by doing it himself, and so I let him. “You agree to this plan, then?”

”I wish that there was another way, but you are right when you say it is our best chance.”

Chade and I spent some time after that discussing which poisons I would bring. Poisons dispersed by air would be dangerous and possibly ineffective if the wind was wrong, and one with a shorter range would be useless. We chose two for me to carry in my shirt sleeves. I doubted that I would have a chance to poison the food or water, but I would bring one such poison nevertheless. If my hands were tied, my sleeves, or possibly the hem of my shirt would be easiest for me to reach. If I was stripped, it was unlikely that they would unbind my warrior’s tail, so I would keep a small packet of powder tied to my leather hair thong. Even more hiding places were found in all articles of my clothing. Not an excessive number, but enough to let me feel safe. If one hiding place was discovered, it was likely that the Piebalds would search out the rest. They would likely search me for weapons anyway, so I would carry some that would be relatively easy to find in addition to smaller blades. Hopefully they would give up after finding the decoys.

And so it was, by my own choice, that I was once again an assassin’s apprentice.


	17. A message

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Fool in this chapter. Thank you to everyone who has left kudos, bookmarked, and has been reading! You make me happy.

When I arose the next morning, Lord Golden was alone in his chambers. He looked up from his writing as I emerged from my hole in the wall, and smiled at me. The tapestries were drawn back from the windows to admit the daylight, and the contrast to my own cave-like room made me squint my eyes. It had been nice waking up. My dreams had been my own that night, and in the few moments before wakefulness seized me, I was blissfully at peace. Then my memories of the previous day had crashed down on me and my resfulness fled. The only childhood home that I could remember, Buckkeep castle had brought me very little peace in my life. That had not changed. Ever since I'd come to live within it's walls again, I had been wrapped in politics and intrigue. Worse yet, was that all around me were reminders that nothing would ever again be as it had once been when I was a lad. Well, nothing save the secrets and the lies, I supposed. King Shrewd and King Verity, the men to whom I had pledged my allegiance, were gone. Nighteyes was dead. Burrich, the closest thing that I'd had to a father, was now wed to my childhood love, and both lost to me because of that. The one friend I'd thought remained to me now seemed like a stranger. The castle was now just an empty mockery of what it had been in my youth. The Fool's smile faded when I did not return it.

"I had hoped to ask last night, but you'd gone to sleep. Is everything alright, Fitzy?"

"I thought you were content knowing that I was not 'availing myself' of Jinna's company."

The Fool huffed out a breath, "I'll take that as a no. Did you two argue?"

I glared and poured myself some tea. Bramble had brought two cups. I glared at them, too, "We didn't argue. She only thinks that I'm a murderer, a traitor, and a liar. Oh, and the entire keep thinks that we're bedding together. Again. Bramble told the other servants that he saw us together."

"Ah, but he did, didn't he?" The Fool asked, claiming the second cup and pouring some of the tea.

"Not like that, he didn't."

"No, but that's not what he thinks he saw. It isn't his fault, really." The Fool sat gracefully and sipped her tea, looking completely unconcerned.

"Then whose fault is it?" I grouched, sitting as well. 

"Nobody's. Really, Fitz, I don't see why it bothers you so much. You know my secret now, so what more could you possibly find so revolting?"

"Just because I know, doesn't mean the rest of the keep does. They think I'm bedding with another man."

The Fool opened her mouth to say something, then sighed and began again, "Well, be that as it may be, I can't say that I blame them. You're clearly unable to disguise your uncontrolable lust for me. I seem to recall you attempting to tear my clothes off the last time we had a conversation like this."

I choked and nearly spat tea all over the table. I glared.

"It was over breakfast, too, as I recall... Fitz, I should have Bramble bring porridge more often." She winked, and served herself a large portion of the sticky stuff. 

"Stop joking, it isn't funny." I protested, my anger stubbornly refusing to be lessened by her attemps at levity.

An eyebrow raised, "I am always funny. Could that be why you think I jest?"

There was no talking to the Fool when she was in mood like that, and I refused to contemplate her words any further. I busied myself eating my breakfast. I didn't touch the porridge, and I scowled when I saw the Fool smirking at me. I don't think that she ate her porridge either.

We sat in silence for a time, and we moved to finish our tea by the hearth while Bramble cleared the dishes away and did small tidying tasks about the room. The bared windows let in the chill of the dying winter, so the heat from the fire was welcome. I was glad that I'd moved any sign of my life as FitzChivalry Farseer into the workroom, because Bramble entered my little room bearing an armful of clothing that must have been washed the day before. I noticed that he did not enter Lord Golden's chamber, but was not surprised, given the Fool's need for privacy. She broke our silence and spoke quietly, once Branble had shut the door behind himself.

"I have been trying to be more honest with you, Fitzy. It's no good if you continue to be suspicious of me anyway. I dislike confrontations, so even in bringing this up, I seek to be more honest with you." She turned her tea cup in her long fingered hands as she spoke, "Did you think that I hadn't noticed?"

I sat very still. I had been doubting the Fool. I doubted her motives, our friendship, and occasionally her sanity. I had not thought that I'd been so obvious about it, though clearly I had. The silenced stretched, and she waited for me to fill it. Silences often spoke more than words, and she knew that art well. By ending with such a direct question, almost an accusation, she prevented me from simply shrugging her words off. The option was still there to lie, but I had let the silence go too long for any lie to be believable. To lie now would be an insult. I was trapped into the truth. Much as I hated the lies that surrounded me out of necessity, it was disconcerting to be left without their shelter. That discomfort fed into my already black mood, "I didn't consider whether you noticed or didn't, Fool."

She studied me for a time, then reached forward and with her ungloved right hand, touched the work-roughend skin of mine. She had calluses too, from her carving, but her hands were still soft. "I have no words to make you trust me again. I must try, though. I kept a secret from you, but it was kept out of necessity, not for the purpose of deceiving you. I fear to speak too much, but please know that to reveal that secret even now could still cost me my life."

"I would not betray you, Fool." I was surprised and a bit insulted that she would think so.

She shook her head, "I know that, Fitz. I trust you. I was trying to explain why it was necessary to deceive you. I would not have done so had it not been necessary."

Privately, I wondered at what else she would do in the name of necessity. Had she not admitted yesterday that she would have allowed Jinna to die? I pulled my hand free from hers, but then snatched her hand back up a moment later. "You're warm."

Now she pulled her hand from mine and looked away, "I change. That is all. As time changes, so do I. You are, indeed, an excellent catalyst."

I frowned, "You're sick. Should you not be in bed?"

She flapped her hand at me, dismissing my concern, "I will be fine for a few days yet, I think. Don't fuss."

Reluctantly, I let the matter drop. We spoke no more of trust, either. I was still not sure whether her talk of White Prophets and Catalysts was madness or not, nor could I accept the Fool's judgement unquestioningly as I once had, but my thoughts dwelt on neither of those things. My days were busy with the sewing of secret pockets into my garments, late-night planning sessions with Chade, and my drills with the Queen's Guard. My body seemed to have finally regained it's strength, and I trained it vigorously. I hesitated over this decision, but my strength was still greatest with the axe, and knowing that I must not limit myself, I took one from the weapon's shed and strode with it onto the practice courts. If any marked my resemblance to the young bastard who'd had songs written about his prowess with that weapon, I did not hear of it. 

Jinna left the next day on a sturdy horse, bound for Fairhills. Her posessions she carried in her saddlebags, and she had been given a heavy pouch of coin to see her settled comfortably. I think that it hurt her pride to accept it, but she did. The Fool surprised me by seeking Jinna out the day of her departure. To her she gave a bag of beads that I suspected were carved by her own hand. They appeared to be in a myriad of colours, sizes, and shapes and I was uncertain that they would be useful for the work that Jinna did. I recalled the Fool's earlier curiosity about Jinna's charms, and wondered if she'd ever deciphered how the things were put together. Lord Golden gave no sign of illness, and I alone knew how much it must have cost the Fool to don Lord Golden's elaborate garb and paints and step out into the cold of winter. Jinna accepted the gift stiffly, but politely. This was the manner of her farewell to me, as well.

Lord Golden continued to teach Hap in the afternoons. He'd gifted the lad with the small harp that the Fool had played on at my cottage, and the boy was delighted. He'd made a few friends among the other servant's children in the keep, and seemed happy there. Personally, I was concerned for his apprenticeship. It had been an impulsive act of protectiveness that led me to snatch my boy away to keep him close. Now I feared to let him go back to Gindast until the Piebald threat was dealt with.

Starling appeared to be trying a new tack in ferreting out my supposed secret, for she'd attached herself to Hap one evening while he'd been playing with the children in the lesser hall, and put all her efforts into winning back his favour. He blushed at the attention this got him from the other children, and gradually seemed to forgive Starling for her unfaithfulness to me. She even encouraged him to put his new harp to use, and gave him permissiosn to sing some of her songs for the children. I watched as they sang together, one evening, and knew a surprising moment of relief. Starling had been the one to rescue Hap when he'd been alone on the streets, and she had delivered him to my door. Seeing them so close, I knew how much Starling's harsh words and her betrayal had hurt Hap. I also knew a bit of pride that he'd chosen me over her. 

Skill lessons continued in the mornings. Dutiful and I worked hard to be sure that I would be able to contact him easily and convey my location once I was given to the Piebalds. We spent two days with him Skill-riding in my consciousness as I went about my business. I was concerned that our connection would break when I entered a battle-fury, as had always been a problem when I performed the same exercise with Verity. Dutiful was concerned that he would be unable to concentrate on both his life and mine, and half a dozen times our connection had broken when he'd become caught up in conversation. It went a way to alleviating both of our concerns that, unlike during my time serving Verity, our connection could be restored without a physical touch. I knew a moment of heartache that had my Skill been more reliable in my youth, perhaps Verity and I could have communicated more easily. Perhaps he would not have had to suffer so long alone. Perhaps Kettricken would not have been so long tormented by her belief of Verity's death. It was usefuless to try to change events of the past though, and Dutiful and I worked stubbornly to be sure that the Skill would not fail us this time. 

Thus was the manner in which my days passed. Hap approached me one afternoon, the day before the Old Blood delegation would arrive. Spring was fast approaching, and his footsteps splashed a little in the slush that had once been snow. Bare earth was visible now, in some of the more heavily trafficked areas. He took me aside from my practice with the other guards, his eyes going a bit wide at the sight of me carrying my axe. He was still getting used to the idea that quiet, solitary old Tom Badgerlock was a warrior. The other guards did not question it. Some had expressed sympathy that my supposed wife had left me and our child. I let Hap lead me a distance away, and we stopped under an old oak. He looked up at me, anxiously. 

"Tom, I think Lord Golden's ill. He was quiet all day today and then he cut our lesson short, saying that he was going to rest. He almost fell going to his bedchamber."

I'd been expecting this, "I wouldn't worry too much, Hap. You know his reputation. He was probably up late into the night gambling or drinking or both."

Hap looked worried still, "I know that, but he gave me these." He held out a roll of leather with flowers embroidered in it and unfolded it, revealing the Fool's carving tools neatly secured in place, "And he gave me his harp, and he gave Jinna all those beads. I heard he even bought one of the garden girls a cottage and some land; it caused quite a lot of talk. It's the tools that are bothering me though, I can tell he loves them. They've been used a lot. Merry, one of the kitchen girls, says that they knew her grandfather was dying because he started giving away all his things. What if Lord Golden is really sick?"

My blood went cold at the thought, even as I reassured Hap, "I'll check on him, but you still needn't worry. Doubtless, he can afford hundreds of sets of tools. As for the rest, well, he's always enjoyed creating a scandal."

Hap blushed red for some reason, "Tom, speaking of scandal... The other servants have all been saying things. They think that Jinna left you because you've been, uhm, that you and Lord Golden got caught... I told them it was nonsense. I just thought you'd want to know."

I sighed and patted Hap on shoulder, "Just a misunderstanding, Hap. I'll go make sure he's okay now, shall I?"

At Hap's relieved nod, I restored my weapon to it's place in the shed, and headed back into the castle. 

I took my old familiar route in past the men-at-arms room and the kitchens. I breathed deep of the familiar smells of leavened bread and roasting meat as I passed. The kitchen was lively as Cook Sara shouted instructions to her underlings, as determined as ever that every feast at Buckkeep would out-shine the last. For a moment I lost myself in the memories of my boyhood, and I longed to be able to sneak into the kitchen to listen to the ladies gossip and be fed a few treats from the platters. As a boy, Chade had often given me the task of making conversation with the servants and the kitchen staff, asking questions about their days or the price of mutton and then reporting back to him all that I'd heard. This task served the dual purpose of testing my memory and also building my reputation as 'a good lad' among the lesser folk of the keep. Cook Sara had taken me in as a bit of a pet, and had been fond of me. I felt a pang of homesickness, and I longed to enter the kitchens and sit down at one of the tables as she pounded a mound of dough or filled pastries with fruit. I kept walking. 

The keep was humming like a hive with preparations for the Old Blood delegation's arrival. With much pomp and ceremony, six uncomfortable looking representatives of the Six Duchies had arrived and servants were made busy seeing to their comfort. I do not think that the representatives looked forward with anticipation to their task, nor did I think that they had ever expected to meet with the Witted face to face. Many of the nobles and minor nobility, along with their own entourages of servants, had also made the journey to Buckkeep castle for the occasion. Some, like Lady Celerity and her elder sister, were familiar to me. Others I recognized more vaguely from the Prince's betrothal ceremony and some of Lord Golden's social events. By the outraged mutterings I heard in the corridors, I suspected that many of the nobility were offended at the very idea of meeting with the Old Blood. I made mental notes of the most hostile faces.

As I made my way to Lord Golden's chambers, I passed Bramble, who was struggling to balance a tray of covered dishes and a tea pot. I stopped him, smiling. The poor lad was probably worked to death keeping up with all of my former master's whims. "Hullo there, Bramble." I greeted, trying to ease the boy's skittish demeanor, "Would you like me to take that in for you? I was just going up myself."

Bramble hesitated, probably wondering whether it would be shirking his duties to do so or if it was inappropriate, given that I was no longer a fellow servant. After a moment of deliberation, he passed the tray up to me with a mumbled, "Thank you, sir." His eyes darted up to meet mine and then looked away.

I aimed another smile at him, though he probably couldn't see it, "You're welcome. Run along and enjoy yourself, then. I'll tend to your master for a few hours."

I do not know where the lad received his education, but his face went bright red, "Y-yes, sir. Thank you. I'll be going now." He hastened down the corridor the way he'd come, then stopped and turned to address me again, tentatively. "Sir? The trays. They've been full when I've been bringing them back down to the kitchens..."

I frowned, but relaxed my expression at the lad's frightened look, "Thank you, Bramble. I'll make sure he eats. Go on."

The lad obeyed and I bore the tray into Lord Golden's chambers where I set it down on the table. The windows were shuttered and the hangings in place, but a fire was crackling in the hearth, giving the room a warm, rather than a stuffy feeling. Nevertheless, I felt a chill. I crossed to his bedchamber and knocked before letting myself in. I had been inside less than a handful of times, and it still felt like an invasion of the Fool's privacy. Here, the windows were likewise shuttered, and the only illumination came from the open doorway. I took and lit a candle from the other room and then returned, bringing my dim light into the room.

The Fool had at least made it to the bed when she'd abandoned Hap's lesson. She lay sprawled over the covers, half on her side and half on her belly, still wearing Lord Golden's finery. I took another hesitant step into the room, "Fool?" Another step, "Fool?" When I still received no answer, I crossed to the bed to shake my friend's shoulder. The Fool had always been undetectable by my wit, and that usual absense combined with Hap's earlier words made me fear for her until I felt her breath ghost across my fingers. I spoke gruffly, embarrassed at the relief I felt, "Fool, wake up."

It was no use. I gently turned the Fool onto her back and then raised her into a sitting position with one arm as I awkwardly pulled the covers free from underneath her with the other. Leaning her against my chest, I unbound her long, golden hair from Lord Golden's uncomfortable looking style before easing her back into the bed. Her hair was damp with sweat at the back of her neck and brow, so I poured some water from the ewer on her table into a basin and retrieved a cloth which I dampened and then used to wipe the sweat from her face and neck. Lord Golden's cosmetics smeared and I rinsed the cloth before removing the lot of it. I couldn't understand why she would go through the trouble of applying it when she hadn't been feeling well. It also worried me that she did not stir during the process of removing it.

That done, I set the cloth aside and reached forward to remove Lord Golden's expensive Jamailian robe. The Fool would not like for it to get wrinkled. I froze as soon as my fingers touched the fabric, then hastily drew them back, flustered. She would just have to deal with the wrinkles. I pulled the covers over her and then went to retrieve her lunch. I set the tray on the bedside table and then wondered at the wisdom of waking her. Perhaps it would be better to let her sleep, if sleep was all this was.

I sat down at the edge of the bed and spent some time debating with myself. As I wavered between waking and not waking the Fool, I studied her. She hadn't moved from the position I'd left her in, and her hair spilled over the pillow like rivers and their tributaries, all made of shining gold. I had a dizzying moment of half recalling such a landscape. Somehow, I soared high over the tree tops so that they looked like little more than a child's toys. Despite the distance, I could see the leaves and the grass below with stunning clarity. I was not interested in leaves though, and the beauty of it all was nothing compared to mine. My prey would feel blessed to behold me in the last moments before I devoured it's flesh. I dove as my eye caught a herd of some antlered creatures bending their necks over a stream, I spread the gleaming and deadly claws on my feet, and then I blinked and the rivers were the Fool's loose hair again and she was looking up at me, curiously. I know not how much time had passed.

"You're awake." I observed, intelligently.

The Fool's voice was quiet as she asked, "Where did they all go?"

Had some people been and gone while I'd been day dreaming? I looked about for any sign of someone's passage, but saw none. "Where did who go?" I asked. 

"The minstrels."

I frowned and pressed my hand to the Fool's forehead. She felt too warm still, to my touch. I knew that for her normally cold skin to feel hot to me, she must have been suffering from a raging fever. Hallucinations were not uncommon during such an illness. "What minstrels, Fool?"

She shut her eyes when my hand touched her brow but answered me still, "The jeweled ones. I think they wore them in every colour. Or perhaps they were what was coloured. They held hands and flowed together like notes of a song, until they were broken. Everything was quiet, then. Have they gone?" The Fool's eyes opened again and she studied my expression carefully, through fever-bright eyes, "I see. No minstrels, then. I must have dreamed. Pity."

My concern grew, but I kept my tone light, "I thought you disliked minstrels."

"I loathe minstrels."

"I consider myself corrected." I took up the cloth again and wet it, dabbing her brow gently. She shut her eyes again and I nudged her, "Don't go back to sleep. I brought your lunch, and Bramble says you haven't been eating." 

Her eyes cracked open again, "Fitz?"

"Yes, Fool?" I asked, mentally braced for more nonsense. None came and I felt like a brute when I shook the Fool's shoulder again and she looked up at me pleadingly. "Just a little longer." I said, as though it would be a comfort, "You frightened Hap half to death, you know, he's convinced that you're dying because you gave him your carving tools. I hope that you don't regret that later. Why did you rise this morning if you didn't feel well?" I frowned a little and continued to talk at the Fool as I poured her some of the tea. Still warm, but not hot. It was probably better that way incase she spilled it, so I decided against heating it up again. I set the cup down and arranged the numerous pillows to prop the Fool into an almost sitting position. She made some uncoordinated efforts to help me, having apparently resigned herself to being awake. I watched her fumble uselessly with a pillow for a moment, before taking it from her and arranging it myself. She looked at her empty hands, bewildered, then up at me.

"Fitz, why are you here?"

Such an obvious answer, "Because you're sick and I brought your lunch." I passed her the cup of tea, and she rested it on the blanket over her lap, cupping both hands around it's warmth. I uncovered the dishes of food and, casting my eyes about for a nearby surface, set the covers down on the table by Lord Golden's expensive paints and powders. It was unlike the Fool to have left them out. I then picked up the tray to set it before the Fool, but the colour drained from her face, and her expression of dread gave me pause.

"No, not you too, Fitzy." She squirmed further away from me, upsetting the mound of pillows behind her. Her wide eyed gaze shifted from the tray to my face, "Would she make you her messenger now?"

I was confused. The meal looked innocent enough, and the Fool had always had a fondness for fresh fish that I usually reserved for dripping, red meat. Taking in the spread of fish, greens, and broth, I thought that she might have even requested the meal herself. Cautiously, I spoke as I lowered the tray that she might see it better, thinking that perhaps she imagined she'd seen a scroll, "It's just your lunch, Fool. No messages."

The Fool's lips thinned and she shifted further away until she was at the opposite end of the bed and holding herself up on shaking arms, "It's her message, Fitz. Delivered to me by my catalyst's hands. She mocks me, or perhaps seeks to poison me. Take it away."

"You need to eat."

The Fool said nothing, but set her jaw, stubbornly. I sighed and set the tray down. Only when I covered the plate and bowls again did she relax and slump back against the headboard. She panted for breath and shut her eyes.

"If I bring you something else from the kitchens, will you eat it?"

A nod.

I bore the tray away. When I returned, I thought the Fool had fallen asleep again, but she opened her eyes when I shut the door, and watched as I set a simple stew and piece of bread before her. I had brought the same for myself. She smiled at me, "Thank you, Fitz."

I wanted to ask her what she feared in a plate of steamed fish, and who I was supposedly messanger for, but I did not. I feared that the answers would make just as little sense, and I was concerned for my friend. It was only the fever, I told myself, but then wondered if the Fool's earlier words were any less rational than anything else she'd told me about prophets, catalysts, and dragons. A disorder that drains the pigment from the skin and induces hallucinations, the priest of Sa had written. A disease, Chade had said, with anger and pity in his eyes.

The Fool ate little, and my appetite had likewise fled. I had not the heart to pester the Fool into eating more, and so I let her sleep. 


	18. Ending and Beginning

Chapter 18

The next day, I did not wake the Fool when the time came to rendezvous with the Old Blood delegates. I went armed to the teeth, or rather to the back of my head, if one counted the small packet of poison concealed in my warrior's tail. My axe was at my back. Every sense of mine was alert as we set out and made our way through the forested hills of Buckkeep.

To my surprise, we met with no treachery, and no Piebalds made their attack on our return. I was anxious that Dutiful had stayed with the Old Blood as a hostage, but he assured me that he would alert me immediately via the Skill if any threat made itself known. I knew not how that would affect my own plot to destroy the Piebalds, though. I had been planning to use my link to Dutiful to relay news to Chade as to my whereabouts; now he would be out of the castle entirely and I would be his link to the others. Chade had, so far, made little progress in hearing our Skilled messages to him during our lessons, and he was even less proficient at sending out thoughts of his own. His Skill was too unreliable for our purposes. Thick, I supposed, could serve as a substitute and pass a simple message on to Chade, but I doubted his ability to relay an exact path or location swiftly. What a cotery we made. I had been pleased by our slow progress, until need made me aware of all that were were deficient in.

One fellow in their company, Web, had put me on edge immediately by singling me out to speak to, but he had since shown himself to be a garrulous fellow, and from my spying, I judged him to be the voice of reason among the delegates. My spying I did as usual, concealed behind a wall. I was not uncomfortable though, and Chade had scoffed at my small supply of wine and food. When he argued that I would be too distracted to be of any use, I countered that hunger and thirst were more likely to distract me.

I learned little from my in the first three days of the meetings. The Old Blood were all anxious for peace, but a few in their number seemed almost mad with their need for revenge. I doubted that Piebalds would be so open about it, but I paid close attention to them none-the-less. The most valuable information, we gained from all that Dutiful relayed to me via the Skill. He seemed to be having a fine time with the Old Blood, and Kettricken was relieved to hear of it. She was also a fan of Web, and I sensed that the two would become a unified force when it came to resolving negotiations with the others.

So, much of my days were taken up by sitting hunched over in a dark and narrow passageway with my eye pressed to a tiny slit in the wall. Chade relieved me of that duty occasionally, but I doubted that it was out of consideration for my back. Likely he preferred to see for himself the conversations of the Old Blood in his absense rather than hear what I would report.

When I was not spying, I made time to visit Hap and to take meals to the Fool. I probably would not have been missed if I hadn't bothered. The Fool spent much of her time in bed, and Hap was becoming quite popular among the servants and the children for his songs. I heard some of the young kitchen girls giggling over how charming his mismatched eyes were one one of my trips to the kitchens. I hoped Hap would not be too disappointed when the time came to resume his apprenticeship. He was already impatient with the pace of his studies. 

On the fourth day of the negotiations, Starling found me again. I was mystified as to how she always managed to sniff me out, especially with the keep as busy as it was. She fell into step beside me as I carried a tray to Lord Golden's chambers. I had nowhere to abandon my burden without it seeming odd, and so I was forced to continue on my way with her following like a tiny dog, and yipping just as much.

"You're a Queen's Guard now," She remarked, "Don't you worry that people will find it odd? You still playing the part of a serving man."

"No, not particularily. All know how demanding Lord Golden can be, and he's accustomed to having me doing things for him."

"So, naturally you just go ahead and do them."

"Well, it's either that or refuse. Refusing Lord Golden is not exactly good for ones reputation now a days."

"As if you've ever worried about that." Starling scoffed.

"I'm a different man, Starling."

"Oh, not so different. I know you're sleeping together, you know. And by that I do mean having sex."

"Sure you do." I was tired of arguing about those tired old rumors.

"I do. All of the keep knows about it by now, but not all of them are are sure as I am. You two were quite discreet except for recently, what with the serving boy walking in on you, and you still 'running errands' for your master."

I paused at the door to Lord Golden's room and balanced the tray on one arm while I opened it. I was not quick enough to slam it in Starling's face, and she surprised me with her boldness by stepping into the room. "Starling." I chided her, "Does your husband know that you're barging into strange men's rooms?"

Starling made herself comfortable in one of the chairs, "As if he'd care." She said, bitterly, "It's not as though he'd miss me in his bed. He's taken a mistress."

My eyebrows rose, and I was uncertain how to respond, "Oh..."

"You know, with you turning me out of your sheets, and my husband losing interest in me, I don't know how much more my pride can take." She stood again, abruptly, and gestured at herself angrily as she demanded, "Am I ugly? Is that it? An ugly old woman, past her prime and not even good as a brood mare?"

She had always just been Starling to me, and I was shocked at her outburst, "No. You aren't ugly, Starling. Nor old." I stood awkwardly with the tray in my arms as she dared me with her eyes to lie.

"I am old. And who would want an old, barren woman? No good to look at, no good for children, apparently not even very good company, given the way you've avoided me!"

I set the tray down, "Starling, we had a fight. That's what people do when they argue."

"People make up when they argue! They fight for a while and then they get over it, or they don't, and I refuse to believe that you would abandon almost two decades of friendship just like that!"

She looked at me, hurt showing through her anger, and I sighed. Quietly going our separate ways was apparently not an option with Starling Birdsong. Chade had advised me, during one of our discussions, that it would be better to be on her good side, but was there a way to do that without simply offending her again when I refused her advances? It seemed unlikely, but I tried, if only to avoid the argument that would ensue if I told her that I wanted no more to do with her. "No, I wouldn't. But I was upset when I found out that you'd been hiding your marriage from me. If you didn't think it would bother me, why did you not mention it during one of your visits?"

To my alarm, tears started making tracks down Starlings cheeks, even as she frowned at my question, "I knew you might be bothered by it." She admitted, "You're an honourable man. I knew you wouldn't bed with someone else's wife... I just- I just didn't want to lose you."

"You wouldn't have lost me, Starling. We could have still been friends, we could still be friends. But only that."

"Maybe I didn't want just that!" She shouted, "Years went by and you just took whatever I offered but never once did you ask me to marry you, you never even seemed to love me! You just sat there in your little shack and lapped up whatever I gave you! I wanted more than that, FitzChivalry, but you were too stupid and blind to even think of it, weren't you? Well I finally did get more. A wealthy noble asked for my hand, even knowing that I could never bare children. Not that it's done me any good now, but what was I supposed to do? Wait for you forever while my looks faded with no guarantee of anything?"

"It's extraordinary. Your mouth must be taking up all the space where your brain should be. Do, kindly, shut up." I spun to see Lord Golden leaning against the door frame of his bedchamber. I was ashamedly grateful for being rescued from answering. He was dressed as simply as Lord Golden could be dressed, in an elaborately embroidered and quilted robe, and there was no sign of Jamailian face paint. Guiltily, I realized that the Fool must have risen from bed just for the sake of helping me deal with Starling.

Starling whirled to glare at him, tears still coursing down her face. "Shut up? Me, shut up? Why should I, when it's you who's ruined everything?!"

"I barely know you, woman, so I doubt that I could have ruined anything. You, on the other hand, are ruining a perfectly good evening with your shrieking. If you must badger my serving man, please do so elsewhere. Preferably somewhere far away."

"Drop the act! I know who you are, Fool!" She spat the word like an insult, "My husband met his whore at one of your stupid gaming nights, and you've stolen Fitz away too! Fifteen years without a word from you, while I try to lift his melancholy spirits and earn his love, and you just show up again out of nowhere and take him?" Starling's face was like a thunder cloud as she advanced on the Fool. She raised her arm to slap her, but I caught her wrist and intervened, inserting myself between the two.

"Starling, that's enough. Stop it."

She pulled her wrist free and glared up at me, red eyed and miserable looking, "And you didn't even tell me. I'm a minstrel but I could keep a secret. I thought I was at least your friend."

"Starling-" I started, but she turned and fled the room, wiping her eyes. "I'll be back." I told the Fool, "Your dinner is on the table." I went after Starling and, to my shame, I did not look back.

She had not gone far. She had concealed herself in a disused servant's stairway and was attempting to compose herself. I followed the sound of her sniffling until I came upon her. She looked up at me but did not move nor speak.

I wasn't sure how to begin to comfort her, "Starling, I'm sorry about your husband." I paused, she said nothing, and so I continued, "I'm sorry, too, that I disappointed you." Truly, I had no idea that she'd been hoping I would propose. She'd always just burst in, stayed a few days, and then left, like a sudden storm. None of it what we did spoke of romance or love to me.

"I'm just tired of not being good enough for anybody."

I stepped closer to her and her eyes widened a bit, but I did not touch her. I studied her bluntly as I would inspect a horse that I was thinking about buying. Rounded breasts, curved waist, long legs. For a moment I felt a stirring of interest, but I resolutely ignored it. I nodded after I was done my inspection, "There's nothing wrong with you, Starling. Were you not married, I could think of no man that would turn you away."

"It's a shame my husband does not agree."

"Then he's a blind man." It ate at me to be soothing her ego when she had screamed at me and raised a hand to the Fool, but I did not let it show on my face.

She leaned up, bracing her hands on my shoulders, and kissed me, "He is unfaithful to me. Surely it isn't wrong that I would take the same pleasures for myself."

I put my hands on her arms and gently pushed her away, "You still wouldn't have what you wanted, Starling, and I won't bed a married woman. You were unfaithful to him too."

She glared and fresh tears sprang into her eyes at my rejection, "So then I deserve this, do I? To have no one. You would choose a freakish woman who chooses to live life as a man over me? One who didn't even bother to write you a letter for fifteen years?"

"The Fool _is_ a man, Starling, and we don't bed together."

"So you say." She said, but the fight seemed to have gone out of her. She slumped back against the wall.

"Perhaps you should tell your husband how his actions have hurt you?" I ventured.

"He would just dismiss it as silliness. Why couldn't you love me, Fitz? We could have been great together."

I could not tell her that I disagreed, or that she'd only become infatuated with her idea of me, so I ignored her last comment and lied in the hopes of ending her tears, "I love you as a friend Starling, and as a man I will assure you that you are still very beautiful indeed. Don't lose hope. I'm sure that your husband will come around."

Starling sniffed one last time and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, "But you won't. Aren't you going to ask me how I knew? That was the whole reason I started following you. To tell you that I'd discovered your secret."

That was a good point, and I was glad for the change in topic. I thought that I had a idea as to how Starling had discovered that Lord Golden and the Fool were one, but I asked her anyway, "How did you find out, Starling?"

She smiled a little, "It was Hap's harp. The Fool did some carving work on my rough replacement when we journeyed through the mountains. I'm a minstrel, so I know harps, and I recognized the technique. I asked him where he got it and he told me. It all made sense after that. Of course, you confirmed it for me."

I nodded. It made sense. "I know that you're upset, but please don't say anything."

She scoffed, "A minstrel knows how to keep a secret. We're called to witness all sorts of private events. You might recall that I haven't said a word about your daughter in years. Besides, secrets are always useful. You never know when a bit of blackmail might be handy." She scrubbed her face once more with her sleeve then stood up straight. She was not happy, but at least she wasn't screaming or crying. "Good evening, Tom Badgerlock. "

"Starling." I halted her before she could turn and walk away. She looked at me without curiosity or even hope. "I do consider you a friend. You aren't alone."

"Good evening, Fitz." She ammended, and turned to go. I let her, and I made my way back to the Fool's chambers. If I had not succeeded in improving Starling's opinion of me, at least I did not seem to have worsened it. A part of me actually felt pity for her. Kettricken would never cast her out of the keep, and her songs had won her fame and status, but she was missing the same things that I was. A mate to grow old with and children to raise. Love and a family. I sighed, and in my thoughts I wished her well. 

I returned to Lord Golden's chambers directly, worried that I would find the Fool unconscious or too ill to return to bed. I cursed myself for having run after Starling, even as I knew that it had been necessary. Or that Chade would think it had been necessary, at least. When I opened the door, the tray was where I'd left it but I was relieved to find the Fool curled up in one of the hearth side chairs. I shut and barred the door behind me and went to sit in my customary chair. "I'm sorry about that, Fool. I would have shut the door on her, had I not had the tray in my hands." 

The Fool smiled thinly at me, "No need to explain, Fitz. Nor apologize."

"Are you well enough to be up? Do you want me to help you back to bed?"

"Don't fuss, Fitz." The Fool scolded, but her smile turned more genuine. "I'm surprised you've returned. Do you not have a wall to lurk behind this evening?"

"No lurking for a little while yet. Chade has taken my post and I would rather be here than behind a wall with him."

The Fool looked at me from the corner of her eyes, "Or in bed with Starling."

"She's married, Fool."

"Oh, is that all? I thought all of her shrieking might have put you off."

"Fool." 

She sighed, "Yes, yes, I know."

"You were quite rude to her earlier, too, Fool. She was upset."

The Fool sniffed, "I refuse to be nice to her just because she's convinced herself that her life is ruined now that you won't bed with her. You are a handsome man, Fitz, but please be realistic. Life goes on."

I was strangely insulted, but unable to figure out why. "That wasn't the only reason she was upset."

"Oh, I know. The whole keep knows now, with the way she can shout. The guards will be making jests about it and exchanging coin as we speak. Speaking of which, how long do you suppose I have before Lord Golden's history as a jester in this very court is revealed?"

"She said that she wouldn't say anything."

A disbelieving snort, "The day Starling doesn't say anything is the day I declare my undying love for Chade."

I shook my head at her irrational dislike for Starling. It was amusing in a way, "Well give her a chance. You're so different from when you were a child, I doubt that anyone would believe her anyway."

She sighed, "I suppose you're right, Fitzy-Fitz. Few would look on me and recall the pale Fool doing tumbling tricks at old King Shrewd's feet. Still, I think that Lord Golden's tine is almost done. It would almost be amusing to let her tell the secret."

"What do you mean 'almost done'?"

A sad smile, "Just the turning of the wheel."

"You're still not well." I reached out to touch her forehead, but she batted my hand away and rubbed at her face vigorously. Bits of skin flaked away under her hands. What was bared was a barely perceptible shade darker.

"Don't touch, Fitz. It's disgusting."

"Not really." I said, but did not make another effort. I was pleased enough that the Fool was out of bed and making conversation.

Our conversation lapsed for a time, and we were both startled by an abrupt pounding on the door. I rose and opened it, revealing an uncharacteristically ruffled looking Chade, still dressed in his finery. The Queen's counselor caught his breath and then berated me, "Where have you been, boy? You are needed at once. The Piebalds have made their move."

I looked over my shoulder and the Fool and I exchanged glances.

"Stay here." I told the Fool, and I followed Chade, shutting the door behind me. I had been prepared for this moment for days, and as much as I had dreaded it, I felt a strange relief that it was here. My concealed blades were an extra weight in my clothing, my poisons unnoticable in their hidden pockets. I was determined that I would end the Piebald threat at all costs.


	19. Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much to the wonderful Tiz! ^__^ She made this plot possible and gave me excellent advice. I owe this chapter to her!

"Where are we going?" I asked, as I followed Chade down the corridor. I was surprised that we made our way through the main corridors rather than the secret passages. That the Queen's counselor himself had fetched a mere guardsman was surely unusual enough to merit notice. It was unsettling to converse with Chade like this in the open and I felt as though I walked the corridors naked. Chade seemed unphased as he led me on through the castle. To my surprise, our path seemed destined for the Great Hall.

"Hush. I cannot explain much like this. The Piebalds have demanded an audience with the Queen, to be witnessed by the Old Blood delelgates and the nobles that represent the Six Duchies. They have also requested that Lord Golden and his serving man be present."

"Why did you let me leave the Fool behind then?"

Chade's explanation was blunt, "He has vanished from his social circles of late. None would think it odd if I said that he could not be found, suggested that perhaps he fled. I do not trust him with you. That man is full of secrets and his highest loyalty is not to the Six Duchies."

"Very well." I accepted. It suited me that the Fool would not be put into danger.

"Go and take your place with the guardsmen. I see no reason to draw attention to you unless it becomes absolutely necessary. Go on now, boy." He commanded, gruffly. I did not obey right away, and looked at him for a moment. The line of his lips was flat and his brow furrowed.

"You've trained me well, Chade. Do not fear." I reassured him, and then entered the hall.

It was a large area for a gathering of so few people. The room seemed cavernous and dark, like the den of some great beast. The hearths lent a flickering light to the place that set the shadows to dancing in a dark parody of the many celebrations that had been hosted in this hall. I took my place with my fellow guardsmen and nodded to Marshcroft who greeted me. I cast my eyes about the room. Our group was the first to arrive and we lined the two walls adjacent to the dais. The nobles entered next, their heads turning to and fro as they no doubt wondered at the lack of ceremony to accompany their entrance. Perhaps it was wariness, though. They stood within the lines of guardsmen, huddled in one group and muttering speculations. Civil Bresigna was there, and he was the only one without fear in his eyes. His cat, Pard, was with him, and both looked eager to spill blood. Civil stroked Pard's coat soothingly, and I noticed that the other nobles gave him a wide berth.

The Old Blood entered soon after. Web alone went unmasked, and he did not hesitate to engage the Six Duchies representatives in talk. The minstrel, Cockle, followed his lead, removing his mask and attempting to make conversation, but the others were hesitant. After some moments, Boyo unmasked and attached himself to Civil. The man supposed himself a rightful nobleman, and sought to ingratiate himself with the young, witted Lord Bresigna. Civil was polite, but plainly had very little interest in the man's company. I recognized Silvereye by her demeanor, for she crossed her arms and did not mingle with the others. The rest, I suspect, kept their masks on more for fear of the Piebalds than the duke's representatives. The nobles seemed uncomfortable mixing with the Old Blood, but they gradually became more vocal as talk of their common enemy joined them. Bosk, the middle aged and soft looking man surprised the nobles by unmasking and speaking passionately about how the Piebalds were the enemy of all, and that they were the ones who gave the Old Blood a bad name. He went on to detail how they were traitors not only to Old Blood, but to the whole of the Six Duchies. Some, I saw, nodded to his words. I was not sure if it was for the best, that the Witted and un-Witted become united by their hatred, but it was useless to contemplate such things now. I watched from my place in the line of guards and stored as much of the scene as I could in my mind to report to Chade later.

He and Kettricken were the next to enter. All eyes turned to Kettricken as she strode into the room to take her place on the dais. She wore her simple clothing of white and purple, and her hair was unadorned save for her crown. Her dignity and poise were her mantle, the kind smiles she gave as she met the eyes of her assembled representatives, her jewels. Chade followed at a respecful distance, a loyal subject to his ruler. I wonder if any marked the features that he shared with his brother.

Once the Queen reached her place at the dais she announced to those assembled, "My friends. People of the Six Duchies." She made no distinction between Witted and un-Witted, "I have been asked to give audience to the group that has been calling itself the Piebalds, with you as our witnesses. As matters concerning the Piebalds have been a grave concern to all of us, it is my sincere hope that together, we will be able to end the unrest that has plagued us as a people." She looked over her assembled people and then took her seat.

Once her brief speech had ended, there was silence. Our number was too small and the hall too large for anyone to begin muttering. Instead, people exchanged glances and shifted, restlessly. I watched the small crowd. To my surprise, Starling had found her way in and no one questioned her presence. She and Cockle were also watching the crowd, doubtless sensing a song in the making.

Then, the Piebalds entered. They were six in number, accompanied by an escort of Buckkeep guards. Six I could deal with easily, I thought. Two were women, three were men of about fourty years, and one was a lad about Hap's age. They were unmasked and I stared as I recognized one woman. She was wearing a green cloak, and at first, my mind placed her as Thick's carer, then I took in her face and I realized my error. It was Henja, the maid who had accompanied the Narsheska on her visit here. I stared, and for an instant I was sure she met my gaze, but her focus was entirely on the Queen before her. I Skilled frantically to Chade, but he gave no sign of hearing me. I felt Dutiful outside of my walls, curious as to what was happening. _Later._ I told him. The Piebalds approached, flanked on both sides by guards, and halted before the dais. I studied Henja. I was confused by her presence here. How could she be a Piebald if she had come here from the Outislands? Had she abandoned her Narcheska in favour of joining the Piebald's cause? My wit-sense of her was odd. Henja was there, but she seemed to be hidden deep. Some other presence shared her mind, and I wondered, uneasily, if she had bonded so deeply with her partner, that their thoughts were no longer separate. 

Kettricken did not give them welcome, but said only, "You are bold to declare yourselves Piebalds and stand before me, when much Six Duchies blood has been spilled under that name. You have asked audience of me and I grant it. Speak."

Henja did not quail under Kettricken's words. She spoke clearly with her head held high, "Farseer Queen, if I may, much Old Blood had been spilled by a Farseer, King Regal. Much Old Blood continues to flow by the will of your Dukes and their citizens."

Kettricken nodded, "The atrocities that occurred during the Red Ship War were terrible indeed. As you may know, it is the purpose of the meeting between Old Blood emissaries and Six Duchies representatives to find a solution to the unjust persecution of Old Blood. These solutions, I hope, will end all further incidents of innocent lives being lost simply for being of Old Blood."

"Is that so, Farseer Queen?" Henja spoke with challenge in her voice, "We come before you today asking justice for innocent lives lost. Three men and one beast-partner were killed some nights ago."

Kettricken spoke calmly in the face of the woman's challenge, "Thieves were killed, it is true. While death is not the punishment for theft in Buck, a guardsman acted on the belief that Prince Dutiful and Lord Bresigna's lives were in danger. It was unfortunate, but those men were killed in the defense of their lives. No persecution has been done and no knowledge of their Old Blood was involved."

I was proud of Kettricken, but frustrated. By keeping with the lie that hid knowledge of Civil's betrayal and Dutiful's wit, it could not be said that the Piebalds had plotted to kidnap the Prince. That such traitors had escaped death this long infuriated me. 

Henja responded, "I will not accuse you of a falsehood, Queen, but I believe that knowledge was kept from you. With me, I have a wife and son, grieving for the loss of a husband and father. Another man mourns his brother. One man had no surviving family after the slaughter that occurred during King Regal's reign, and his beast partner was killed in the same attack. These family members and others can attest to the character of the men who were slain. They were not thieves. We ask that Tom Badgerlock and Lord Golden be given over to us, to be tried by our leaders for the murder of innocent men."

"If you seek a trial, then they may be judged here."

"That is not sufficient, Queen. Many of our number do not extend the benefit of doubt to the Farseers. Some believe that this convocation, " Henja gestured to the gathered witnesses, "is a ploy to draw those of Old Blood from hiding in order to eliminate them, and fear to stand in the Farseer court."

Silvereye interrupted with an outburst, shrieking, "I told you! I told you all that it was so! The Farseers have been plotting against us! Luring us out with promises of protection and freedom!" Web tried to silence her with a heavy hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off, "The Farseers give us nothing but lies!"

Civil rounded on Silvereye, his cat hissing, "You know nothing! These accusations are the lie! Those men meant to kill us!"

"Silence." Chade spoke, his deep voice echoing from the depths of the room.

Henja continued as though the interruption had not occurred, "Others believe that the Farseers seek to protect their own." She looked challengingly at Kettricken, "That the men were murdered not for the crime of being Old Blood, but for knowing too much. That while innocent families have been slaughtered, the Farseers have sheltered their own. All know the wit runs in Farseer blood." She smiled a thin lipped smile as she looked up at the Queen. It was a veiled threat and both women were aware of it. I turned my gaze to the assembled Old Blood. They had heard rumors of the Prince's wit. How would they react to this? Those whose faces were bared seemed uncomfortable. In a seeming change of topic that made my blood run cold, Henja spoke on, "The man who calls himself Tom Badgerlock is witted. His beast was a wolf. He has betrayed Old Blood and by Old Blood he will be judged."

Kettricken did not respond to Henja's threat, "Then will the Piebalds submit to being judged for their crimes?"

Henja retorted smoothly, "Will the Farseers and the dukes of the Six Duchies submit to being judged for theirs? There is spilled blood on both sides. As you have said, we seek to put an end to future wrongs. Give us Tom Badgerlock and Lord Golden to be judged and we will join your negotiations."

"I will remind you," Kettricken spoke calmly, "That no execution can be carried out unless the criminal is brought to me for judgment."

Henja smiled, "Of course, Queen."

Kettricken paused a moment, judging the woman before her, before calling, "Come forward, Tom Badgerlock, Lord Golden."

I moved from the line of guards against the wall. I felt every eye on me, and I knew that at least one man had made the connection. Blade Havershawk was watching me from his position as escort to the Piebalds as though I floated rather than strode to stand before the dais. Civil looked shocked. Web's face was grim. I knelt on one knee before Kettricken.

"Where is Lord Golden?" Kettricken asked the room.

Chade answered, "My Queen, he could not be found. We believe that he has fled."

Kettricken addressed Henja, "As you have heard, we have but one of the men that you have accused."

"Very well. Are we agreed that Tom Badgerlock will be judged by our leaders and that in exchange, the Piebalds will join in peaceful negotiations with the Farseers?"

"We are."

Two of the men in the group of Piebalds came behind me and took hold of me by the arms. They were not gentle and I fought the urge to pull free of them as they hauled me to my feet. I stood between them, tense, and kept my head down. Through the corners of my eyes, all I could see were the dancing shadows. I raised my head and looked up at Kettricken and Chade. Kettrickekn's eyes were sad and Chade was tense. Kettricken closed her eyes briefly and then stood.

"The matter is settled. All assembled here, take note. Another gathering will take place one month hence. I extend invitation to you all to return on that date to be part of the negotiations that will shape a unified Six Duchies in which Old Blood may practice their magic without fear of persecution. Any others willing to take part in the negotiations will be welcome. Piebalds, you will be escorted from the keep by my guards. Since you have agreed to engage in peaceful negotiation, any further attacks on Six Duchies citizens, be they Old Blood or not, will be looked upon as acts of treason. You will have surrendered your rights to negotiate and all who identify themselves as Piebalds will be captured and brought before me for judgement. Do you agree to this?"

Henja inclined her head, still smiling, "I do."

"Very well. Guards, please escort the Piebalds and Tom Badgerlock from the keep."

The two men gripped my arms firmly and, as we were escorted from the room, I kept my face impassive and my gaze fixed before me. I went with them willingly. I could feel Blade's gaze on me as our procession made its way through the corridors, but he said nothing. Servants whispered and stared as we passed. When we were outside of the walls of the keep, our party halted briefly so that the men could force me to my knees while the third bound my wrists behind my back. I spoke before the guards could depart. "I am witted." I confirmed, turning my eyes up to catch Blade's gaze, "But I am no traitor, for my highest loyalty is to the Farseers. The Piebalds meant to kill my prince." 

"Shut up." One of the men commanded, pulling the rope uncomfortably tight. 

I saw Blade incline his head slightly as the guards turned back for the castle and I was left alone with the Piebalds. Henja's shadow fell over me as she looked down and smiled, "We meet at last, catalyst."

I froze. Henja strode ahead to lead the group onwards and I was pulled to my feet once more.

We traveled an hour by foot that day, forsaking the path in favour of the shelter of the trees. In that time, my captors spoke little, and what they did say gave me no information. Henja did not speak directly to me again. After that hour we met up with two other men who had been guarding their horses. I was manhandled onto a brown, mean spirited horse, and my feet were tied to the stirrups. The boy was given charge of my horse's reins. His name was Jay, apparently, and he did not respond when I attempted to speak to him. Eventually one of the men cuffed me and commanded me to be silent. I tried to Skill to Chade and I thought that I felt some spark of recognition from him, but my mind slid past his without holding, and I was unable to convey any information to him at all. During my period of silence, I Skilled to Dutiful. I conveyed to him all that had occurred and also my memories of the paths we had taken. If I could not get the information to Chade, perhaps Dutiful could pass it on once he was returned to the keep. Hopefully it would not be too late.

Hopefully I would not need Chade's help at all, I thought, mentally going over the weapons that I had concealed on my person. Eight were not so many people. I would see how many there truly were when I was brought to their leaders, if that was truly their intention. I was not sure if the Piebalds would actually engage in peaceful negotiation with Kettricken, and personally, I did not wish to take the chance. I would judge their mindsets as much as I was able, and if possible I would spare those who had been pressed into becoming Piebalds by threat to their families or who did not share the Piebald's treacherous goals. Those who aspired to topple the Farseer throne or to take vengeance on Six Duchies citizens, I would kill.

The landscape that we traveled varied little. In the forest, the earth was mottled with clumps of snow and partially frozen water. We followed game trails that were wide enough for our horses to pass, but still branches scratched at my limbs and face. I had no way to protect myself save to turn my head, and I probably looked as though I'd been in a fight with a cat. Fighting would have been preferable. I swear the boy led my horse deliberately into the path of the low hanging branches. We had a brief respite from travel through the forest when we emerged onto a road that likely only serviced a few farmsteads. I added it to my mental map of where we had traveled and conveyed the information to Dutiful. On we rode and the sun began to set, sending it's last rays reaching across the wintery land. We passed no-one on that lonely stretch of dirt, and then we entered the forest once more, traveling ever further from Buckkeep. We paused at a small stream to water the horses and there, it was decided, we would make camp for the night.

I was released from the saddle and hauled onto the snowy ground by one of the five men. The thought occurred to me, briefly, that I could probably kill them all right now. It would not be worth it though, not yet. Not until I knew how many more Piebalds were hiding in the shadows of the Six Duchies. So, I gritted my teeth as my ankles were roughly bound and I was deposited in a heap at the base of a large oak.

There I remained as they set up camp, the slushy snow quickly saturating my leggings and somehow finding its way into my boots. I had been warm enough, earlier, while we were riding, but the snow and the inactivity quickly chilled me. I occupied myself by studying my prey. Jay was given the task of fetching firewood. The apparent leader of the group was called Sharptooth by the others. He was well muscled in a way that looked deliberate, rather than the product of his work, and he moved like a predator. He had the curly dark hair typical of Buck men, heavy brows, and a wild looking beard. He and two other men, called Fin and Hardy raised the tents. They appeared to be brothers by their similar builds and their easy manner with each other, and had been the ones to watch the horses during the audience with the Queen. Two men went out hunting, and one tended the horses. When Jay returned with the firewood, the women built the fire and when the hunters returned, they cleaned, skinned, and began to cook the meat. Henja, I watched with the closest attention. She was a mystery to me. She seemed to have surrendered authority to Sharptooth, but I sensed that there was more to their relationship than that. There was no sign of their wit-beasts.

While all of this took place, I was ignored. I learned very little that was of any use, save for their names, by watching them, and so I made use of my full bladder to try to provoke conversation.

"Hey." I called, bringing their attention to me, " I have to piss. Can one of you untie me, please?"

Sharptooth jerked his head from Jay to me, "Untie his legs, then take him behind the tree. Don't untie his hands. He tries anything, shout. Were it not for the women, I'd say pull it out and let him piss where he lays. Bastard don't deserve no better." 

Jay scowled, but did as he was told, approaching me and untying my ankles with caution, as though I were a horse that might kick. "Don't try anything." He warned, as I got my feet under me and stood. He held on tight to my bound wrists as he led me a few trees away.

"You could unbind my hands, you know. I won't try to run. The others would overtake me effortlessly." I offered. 

"Don't talk to me, traitor." He ordered, "I hate you." It was humiliating to have him free me from my clothing and help me to relieve myself, and I thanked Eda that he did not discover any of my hidden blades. The boy was just as embarrassed about the process as I was.

When I was done and tucked away, the boy steered me back to my place by the oak. The other men chucked a bit at his misfortune and he scowled, "Fin? Could you do the knots?" At the man's nod, the boy left me to return to his place by the fire.

My ankles securely bound once more, I was once again deemed unworthy of attention. The women had roasted the meat and were passing chunks of it, speared on sticks, out to the members of their company. One man made do with greens instead, and I suspected that he was bonded with a herbivore. Tea was also made and poured. None even suggested feeding the traitorous Bastard.

"Those men deserved what they got." I commented, loudly, "Three armed men trying to kill two innocent boys. One of which is the Prince of all the Six Duchies and son of the only Queen in generations to try to end persecution of the witted. It was cowardly, treason, and also not very smart."

Jay threw his stick at me, "Shut up about my da! He didn't deserve to die! None of the Piebalds who've died at Farseer hands have! You're a traitor and a disgrace to Old Blood!"

The woman who I supposed must be Jay's mother put a hand on his shoulder. Sharptooth spoke as he tossed his own stick into the fire, "Botha ya shut up. Boy, he's trying to provoke you into talking and you're stupid enough to let 'im." He rose from his place by the fire and wiped grease from his lips as he came to stand before me. He looked down at me stoically, "You, Bastard. You wanna talk, I'll talk to ya. While you were hiding like prey, people were dying. As if that weren't bad enough, you sided against Old Blood in favour of the ones who been doing the killing. You even done some of the killing yourself. That makes you the coward and a traitor and it means you don't get to go insulting the memory of dead men."

"Regal ordered the slaughter of Old Blood back then." I met his gaze in a way that was rudeness for a wolf, "I never swore my loyalty to him and I'm ashamed that I failed at stopping him. You cannot put the blame for his deeds onto the shoulders of the Prince who had not even been born yet, nor the Queen who strives to undo all of the prejudice against Old Blood."

"No." He agreed, "I can't. But the killings went on long after the Pretender died, and I can punish those who let it happen and the man who did some of it." With that, he lifted his boot and kicked me hard under the ribs. I coughed as I struggled to pull air into my lungs, and Sharptooth returned to his place by the fire.

I did not attempt to win any more information that evening, and as darkness swallowed everything outside of the circle of firelight, I resigned myself to a cold and hungry night. The Piebalds conversed softly among themselves around the fire, mostly about how long they would travel tomorrow and where they would be able to stop for water. They were careful not to mention any locations by name, but still I tried to puzzle out what they planned. How many days would we ride until we reached their leaders? It did not seem like we would arrive tomorrow. At this rate, even if I could alert Chade as to my whereabouts, it would take his men too long to reach me. I resolved that I would not need his assistance.

Back in my cottage, with Nighteyes and Hap, I had not once thought that I would kill for the Farseers again. My years as an assassin were now no more than dark memories and scribblings on pieces of paper that were, more often than not, quickly burnt to ash. Those secrets had been too heavy to remain on paper. Let them be forgotten. For years I had lived a quiet life. If I was not happy, at least I was content. I had Nighteyes and I had the raising of Hap and the tending of the chickens and my garden. Occasionally I would look down the road and wonder what more my life could have been, especially so after the Fool had visited me, but I did not miss the killing.

Except perhaps I did. I wanted to deny it in myself. I wanted to refuse the thought that I could find any satisfaction at all in taking another human being's life. Meatless hunting was useless.

But it wasn't really. It served a purpose in one way or another. To kill the Piebalds would be to defend my pack. To defend Dutiful, my cub. Just the thought of how the Piebalds had attempted to take his life made me want to snarl.

So did that mean that I actually enjoyed being the Farseer's assasin? Did I fight against that fate because I fought the idea that I could take satisfaction in that work? After all, what sort of a man would plot the death of another man and carry it out by poison or smothering in the night? An honourable man would not come upon another man in darkness and stab him, nor would he know the techniques for doing so while keeping most of the blood within the body, for causing a slow death or a quick death, for ensuring that the victim had no chance to scream.

I pushed those thoughts aside. No, of course I did not enjoy the killing or the secrets. But, perhaps I did see how it was necessary. Perhaps I did enjoy the hunt.

Soon, the Piebalds grew weary of planning for tomorrow and for congratulating themselves on extracting me from the castle. The women claimed one tent and the men the other. Sharptooth took the first watch. I took this time to Skill to Dutiful again.

_Dutiful, are you still awake?_

Dutiful's response was immediate. _Tom! Yes, I am. Are you still alright?_

_Cold, hungry, watching a Piebald watch nothing in particular._ I sent him an image of what I saw. _Otherwise I'm alright._

_Good._ Dutiful's thought was full of relief. _The convocation won't be over for another two days. Until then I have no way of reaching Chade for you. I've tried, but his mind is like a fish in a pond. Do you think maybe we should try Thick?_

_I know. I've tried to contact Chade as well with no more success. We could try a simple message through Thick. I'm a bit worried that he would scramble it or forget to deliver it, though._

_While you're okay, I suppose that's alright._ Dutiful decided, _But if anything happens to you before I make it back to the castle, I'm Skilling Thick. He's simple but he's not hopeless._

_That's a good plan, Dutiful. The Piebalds are bent on revenge against the Farseers. It seems as though they plan to make me the recipient. They know who I am._

_I don't understand it. Civil said that the Old Blood practically worship the Witted Bastard. If they do know who you are, why would they despise you so?_

_They seem to think that I should have stopped the executions of Old Blood._ I did feel guilty now, that I had spent years living peacefully in my cottage while opinion of the witted sank and executions occurred more frequently. Still, FitzChivalry Farseer had been long buried. What could Tom Badgerlock do to change the minds of so many citizens?

Dutiful eased my conscience. _Even my mother has been having a hard time of that, and she's the Queen of the Six Duchies. Don't worry, Tom._

_I'm not._ I told him, _Do you think that the Piebalds will really negotiate for peace?_

_Perhaps some will. From what the Old Blood have told me, many of the Piebalds are mad with grief over lost loved ones. Those, I don't think will negotiate._

_It saddens me, but I agree with you. Sleep well, Dutiful. I'll Skill to you if anything changes._

_Good night, Tom... Fitz. I'm sorry that you must do this._

_It was my own decision. Sleep well._ I broke our connection and blinked in the firelight. All was quiet, and I was not eager to provoke more conversation from Sharptooth.

Despite my discomfort, I must have dozed for a time. I woke up when the Piebalds were changing watch. I narrowed my eyes as I saw Henja take Sharptooth's place by the fire. For a time, she ignored me. She added a few broken branches to the fire, poured herself a cup of tea and then sat in silence. Spring was coming, and by day the snow melted, but by night the temperatures dropped. I shivered and watched her drink the hot tea with envy. Time passed, and I occupied my mind by trying to make connections between the Narcheska and the Piebalds. Nothing plausible came to mind. I had decided to try Skilling to Chade one more time when Henja rose. She brought her cup of tea with her as she came to crouch before me in the snow. She took a sip of it, and I thought that she would be cruel enough to taunt me with it, when she held the cup to my lips. A hesitated for only a moment before taking a mouthful. It was sweetened with honey and was wonderfully warm after so long in the wet snow. She took the cup away after I'd taken a second mouthful and set it on the ground while she took a bit of travel bread from her pack. She offered that to me too, but I narrowed my eyes and did not open my mouth to receive it. She laughed quietly. 

"How amusing. There's no need to be so wary, catalyst." She broke a piece off of the bread and ate it before offering it to me again.

I turned my head aside and asked, "Why do you call me that?"

I heard her smile in her voice as she replied, "There is no need to pretend ignorance. You know what you are. I apologize that we must meet like this. It was the only way to remove you from Buckkeep. I am the White Prophet of this age and I have come to claim my catalyst."

"You are not a White." This much was obvious from her colouring.

"Henja, who you see before you, is not. I am. This I assure you. Through Henja I can see all that she sees and converse with you using her voice. Don't be stubborn. Eat."

I ate the bread. Hungry as I was, the travel rations tasted good. "That makes no sense."

"But it does." She held the cup of tea to my lips again. "We will meet face to face soon enough." When I had drained the cup she took it back and rose, "You should have been king, FitzChivalry Farseer. My plans were thwarted by the young false-prophet, but I will not be defeated again. I had hoped to see him too, but it matters not, as long as I have you."

"Wait." I said. Much as I disbelieved her, I needed information, "Where are you taking me?"

"They bring you to me, of course." She smiled a cat's smile at me as she bent down and brushed a few crumbs of the travel bread from my beard. I felt embarrassed, though I knew I could not have prevented it with my hands bound. She traced a finger down the scar on my cheek, "And I will give you all that your life has denied you. You have been greatly deceived and misused by those you called friends. You will see that in time."

I stayed silent and she left me to return to her place by the fire. Her watch passed, and soon Fin took her place. My mind whirled with thoughts. Some woman who claimed to be the White Prophet was controling Henja. Was she who Peottre Blackwater had been threatening? The Fool had spoken of a Pale Woman who sought to turn time towards a future of darkness and corruption. I would get more information from her when next I had a chance. I slept for a time, propped up against the oak. That night I dreamed of the Fool arguing with Chade. I was a rag doll held between them and tugged from either side until I was plucked from their grasps. I woke up again before I knew whether the hand that had taken me meant to cradle me or to burn me.


	20. Hunting

I was kicked awake by Hardy. It was my first impulse to lash out unthinkingly, but I could do no more than twitch ineffectually. He had stalked away to saddle the horses before I had gotten my bearings. I felt sluggish with cold and my every muscle and joint ached terribly. I was hungry, too. The bread Henja had given me had not filled me at all. I groaned as I tried to move as much as my bound limbs would allow me. Now that I was awake, the cold that had seeped into my bones made me shiver.

The sun was just making itself known through the trees. If it had been summer and the trees full of leaves, it would probably still have been dark. As it was, the deciduous trees were still bare, save for the snow that clung to their branches. The snow caught the light and scattered it, and I squinted my eyes against the sharp little reflections. I watched through my narrowed eyes and the fog my breath made as the Piebald's camp was swiftly disassembled and the fire doused. With nine horses, there was no disguising our passage. I wondered how they had prepared for an attack. Surely they must have at least considered that men would follow them. I looked around and shifted to give myself a better view. All of the men had swords, and Hardy and Fin were equipped with bows and arrows. It would be a feeble defense against the Queen's Guards, but possibly challenging to me if I could not find a way to poison them or kill them in their sleep. The women were unarmed save for their small knives. The woman who was not Henja was scrubbing a pot out with some snow. They'd already eaten, then. My stomach growled. 

Henja did not acknowledge my existence, but I watched her carefully as she spoke to Sharptooth. The two conferred quietly by the stream as the others loaded up the supplies. Henja was calm as she spoke. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her and her face impassive while Sharptooth scowled and narrowed his eyes. Their words were inaudible to me, and I could not read their lips over that distance. How I wished that I could, though, and missed how Nighteyes' keener senses had augmented my own.

That was another odd thing. In my time with the Piebalds, I had yet to see any sign of their wit-beasts. Jay was, perhaps, a bit young to bond. The others could have lost their partners, but it seemed improbable to me, that every member of their party would be unbonded. I would not have left Nighteyes behind in their places, so why had they separated from their wit-beasts? A squirrel or a bird, perhaps, could remain unnoticed. My eyes went to the trees but saw nothing near-by. Still, it was a possibility. They could even be using their beasts as scouts to watch behind and ahead for enemies. Sharptooth, though, did not strike me as a man who was bonded to a squirrel or a bird. He moved like a predator: with confidence and with eyes always alert for prey. He did not glance about or pause to listen for an attack, he prowled. I saw it in his gait as he stalked away from Henja to join the others. Henja watched him go with a small smile. For a moment I thought that her eyes met mine, then she turned away to help the other woman.

Sharptooth came to me and cut the rope around my legs. His narrowed eyes told me eloquently what he would do to me if I kicked. As much as I longed to, I restrained myself, and he hauled me to my feet. It took a moment before my cold-numbed limbs would support me, but support me they did, and Sharptooth shoved me in the direction of the horses.

"Good morning to you, too." I grumbled, hoarsely.

He wished me the same with another shove.

I was once again secured onto my temperamental mount. It was difficult enough being manhandled into the saddle with my arms bound. She took a few steps sideways while I was heaving my leg over, and I would have toppled over had it not been for Sharptooth's bruising grip. I was almost grateful. He snorted a laugh at my predicament and I glared. Cold and hunger had not left me in an agreeable mood.

"Not so high and mighty now, are you, Bastard?" He asked, sounding almost cheerful at having me helpless. 

I reined in my anger so that I could reply calmly, "I never was."

Sharptooth's mount was a powerful, black horse. He was well cared for and well-mannered as Sharptooth climbed into the saddle. "No, you weren't, were you?" Somehow his agreement was made into an insult as he rode to take the lead of the party. Jay grabbed my horse's reins and chirruped to her without glancing once at me. We were on our way once more. 

I swear I ached to my very bones, but at least riding warmed me. The wet snow on the hills and hidden roots and rocks made the footing tricky for the horses, and it was an effort to keep myself seated. As the sun climbed higher into the sky, water droplets and small clumps of snow began to fall from the branches of the trees. The Piebalds were oddly hushed as they rode, but after a time, they began to exchange glances and shortly after that, the silence was broken. I did not know what they had silently communicated to one another, or if we had passed a land mark of some sort, but I was glad for their talk because it gave me a chance to gather more information. The two men who had gone hunting the night before were called Dervin and Marsh, the other was called Sly and he was cousin to Jay's mother, Melody. I knew that learning their names was unncessary and perhaps a hinderance to my task as an assassin, but if I failed, I wanted Dutiful to pass on at least some useful information.

I Skilled to Dutiful not long after we began riding. He'd been asleep, but became immediately alert. He feigned sleep while he Skill-rode with me, taking in the landscape and the Piebalds riding ahead of me. I was also aware for a time of how much warmer he was under his blanket and I savoured his feeling of comfort even though it did nothing to ease my body. Dutiful was sympathetic. 

_I wish that there was some way that I could help you now, Tom, but there's no way that I can leave without jeopardizing the small trust I've gained for us. The Old Blood are very cautious._ I could feel the guilt that Dutiful felt, not only for my discomfort but for what he knew I must do while he remained in relative safety.

_I know, Dutiful. Don't worry about me. You're doing a very important thing by staying with the Old Blood. I think that by earning their trust and by living with them during this time, you've done far more to further our cause than any negotiation could._

_I understand that. The Old Blood have not had good feelings toward the Farseers for some time now. I hope to be able to change that. Still, it pains me that you take action while I wait here. It isn't fair._

There was both boy and monarch in Dutiful's words. I was proud of the boy and I let him feel it through our Skill link. _We do what we must for the Six Duchies, Dutiful._

 _Have you tried Skilling to Chade again?_ Dutiful asked, changing the subject in his embarrassment as he handled my pride in him with a new sort of happiness. It was a father's pride that I felt for him, and it was bittersweet to know that Verity would have been proud of his boy, too. It also saddened me that Dutiful had never experienced this sort of relationship in his life.

_Not yet, but I had no success last night. It has always been difficult to make him hear us, though. I'm sure that he is just as anxious about it as we are and will make every effort to contact us. Perhaps if he uses Thick's strength, he'll be able to touch minds with us._

_Perhaps._ Dutiful was skeptical. _Maybe I could persuade the Old Blood to take a message to the castle for me. I could hide a message for Chade in a note to my mother._

I thought it over. _I don't have an exact location to give him, but we have been heading towards Farrow. Tell them that you are well and that the wind from the west has been warm._

 _I will._ Dutiful agreed, _I hope that someone will take the note for me. I'm sure they will understand my desire to reassure my mother._

I agreed, and we spent some time in silence as Dutiful 'woke up' and began his day with the Old Blood. Our Skill link was diminished but present, so that I was always aware of him at the edge of my mind. It reminded me of something the Fool had said to me back in my cottage what seemed like a life time ago, about being aware of me through the Skill bond her fingerprints had left between us. It had grown stronger since the time she'd dragged me back into my body after I'd gone after Nighteyes and stronger still after our Skill healing. I reached out, cautiously, but could not feel any trace of the Fool.

I wondered what she'd thought when I'd told her to stay while I'd gone with Chade. Perhaps she thought there had been another scroll and had not worried until that night or the next morning when I did not bring dinner or breakfast, as had become customary since she'd begun refusing Bramble's trays. She had probably been furious when she found out what happened, but I refused to feel guilty. The Fool was still recovering and this situation was dangerous. I told myself that it was for the best. She would forgive me once I explained my reasoning, and if I did not return to explain, at least the Fool would be safe.

I thought back to that afternoon when I'd found the Fool delerious in bed. She hadn't been making sense with her talk of minstrels and messages in the fish. Again, I considered the possibility that White Prophets were not truly prophets at all, but sick with some illness of the mind. This woman who supposedly spoke through Henja's body also claimed to be a White Prophet. I was skeptical, and still having trouble connecting the Piebalds and Dutiful's betrothal to the Narsheska without adding Prophets into the mix. The quest to slay Icefyre was another complication. Henja had wanted the betrothal to succeed when she'd spoken to the Narsheska and Peottre. Did that mean that she supported the quest to kill Icefyre, or had that been solely the Narsheska's childish challenge? But if she was a White then surely she would also be hoping to turn time into a better path, and she would agree with the Fool. And where did Piebalds come in?

I was jolted out of my tangle of thoughts when Sharptooth called for us to halt. Jay unfastened me from my ties to the tack and I awkwardly slid from the saddle. Fin came to stand close by incase I tried to flee. I didn't.

"Melody, Jay, Dervin. You're getting supplies." Sharptooth tossed Dervin a small pouch, "Don't take long. Hardy and Fin, go kill us something for lunch. If you don't find something in an hour, come back. We'll eat what we've got."

As the named Piebalds dispersed to carry out their orders, Marsh gestured to me, "We tieing him up again?"

Sharptooth eyed me, assessing the likelihood that it would be necessary, "Can't hurt. Do it then get us some wood for a fire in case those idiots actually kill something. Take Sly with you. The woman and I can handle this sack of bad meat."

Marsh bobbed his head and encouraged me to drop to my knees with a heavy shove and a kick to the back of my legs. He commenced binding my ankles again. "Don't know why you sent them hunting. The two of them'll probably get lost."

Sharptooth snorted, "I'm not expectin' much, but I'd rather eat travel bread for lunch than dinner. Your turn's tonight and I expect you to come back with more than a couple of scrawny hares."

I was left where I knelt while the last two men departed. Sharptooth and Henja were alone excluding me, and I suspected that they'd planned it that way. Since Melody, Jay, and Derwin had left for supplies on foot, I gathered that we must be very near to a settlement of some kind. I Skilled that information to Dutiful. There was quiet for a time while Henja inspected the horses, who were eating some of the melting snow, and Sharptooth prowled the area, restlessly. I shifted myself so that I could lean against the trunk of a tree. I was startled when I felt something touch my arm. I looked down and was shocked to see Fennel.

 _Fennel, what are you doing here?_ I kept my sending small and focused. Neither Sharptooth nor Henja seemed to notice.

Fennel gave me a haughty look and butted his head against my arm again. _Cats go wherever they want to go, stupid human._

 _You should be careful._ I warned him, _These people aren't very nice._

I sensed agreement from Fennel, and his eyes narrowed. _Not nice.They ruined the shelter. Made the nice human with the fish and the cheese and the lap go away. Chased away the juicy rats, too._

_You haven't been with Jinna, then?_

_I hunt._ Answered Fennel, looking meaningfully at Sharptooth and Henja.

_That's big prey for a cat._

A distainful flick of his tail, _Big prey for a human. Not for a cat._

I did not know much about cats, but Fennel was no hunting cat. _Could you find your way back to Buckkeep? If you can find the boy who stayed at your shelter, Hap, he would take care of you. Or the boy who smells like me. They're in the big stone shelter._

 _Stupid. Cats take care of themselves._ Fennel informed me, before disappearing back into the forest.

I had only been trying to help. I shook my head to myself. I would never understand cats. I glanced at Henja and Sharptooth to see if they'd noticed anything, but miraculously they hadn't. They seemed to be focused on eachother. Sharptooth was approaching Henja as though she was prey, and Henja watched him advance with her gaze cold and her arms calmly at her sides.

"I have no more words for you than I have already spoken, Sharptooth." She informed Sharptooth cooly.

"Maybe not, but I have words for you." I strained to hear his softly spoken words. "What is the meaning of this? I followed your orders this long, but I am no madman like Laudwine. Even if I had never been a soldier, I would be able to see that provoking a civil war with the Farseers is a lost cause. We were lucky not to be hanged on the spot."

Henja smiled as though the large man was only a child, "You think that I provoke a war? What foolishness."

"I've got no respect for the Farseers or their bastard, but I think we stand a better chance if we negotiate. Use him as a hostage if necessary, but killing him would be a waste."

Henja's smile widened. It looked out of place on the woman's features, as if the muscles of her face did not normally practice the motion. For a moment I believed that there truly was another woman controling her. "I have given you not a hostage but a king, Sharptooth. You are too impatient. Why do you desire to settle for a negotiation when you can take the crown?"

Sharptooth scowled. "It's not impatience. It's caution, and it's born from experience that a woman like you has no understanding of. The men are hot for vengeance but killing and killing till no one's left ain't going to get us anything but dead men."

Henja grew yet more amused, "What a simple mind you have. Have I not told you? I have given you a king." Her gaze shifted away from Sharptooth, unconcerned that he might do her harm, to settle on me. She studied me unashamedly but spoke to Sharptooth, "Laudwine was indeed a madman, but at least he had ambition. If you cannot think of gaining power for yourself, then at least continue to be the good soldier and do as I say. You owe me your life. Remember that."

Sharptooth's scowl became a snarl of fury and I thought that he would kill her then, but he clenched his large hands into fists and spun away from her to stalk off into the trees. He had either decided that Henja could guard me on her own, or he had stopped caring. I stored every detail of their conversation in my memory and reordered by impression of their dynamic. Henja had spoken for their group before Kettricken, but since then, had assumed a more submissive role. Sharptooth had commanded the Piebalds and they had obeyed. Now it seemed that Henja had some hold over Sharptooth and he was the leader in name only. She also claimed that he owed her his life. I wondered how that could have come about but resigned myself to waiting until I had more information. The pieces of the puzzle were too few, and attempting to fit them together only caused more confusion. I opened my mind to deepen my connection with Dutiful so that I could convey the new facts I had gathered but stopped short and watched warily as Henja came to crouch in the snow before me. She smiled that strange smile again. It might have been pretty on another woman's face. As it was, the expression made me wary.

She knew that I had been listening. She sighed a small sigh that put me in mind of the Fool when she showed fond exasperation at my stubborness. "He is useful, but he is no catalyst. Not like you. Do you know how many possibilities stem from your every breath? You are a most unlikely creature and it makes your impact on time's cycle that much greater. Did Beloved ever tell you that?"

I had not fully believed that Beloved was the Fool's true name. It had seemed so much like a jest at the time. I replied cautiously, "In a way, yes."

She nodded with my words. Somehow I felt myself relaxing. "Yes, I thought he might have. Did he also tell you what it means to be catalyst to a White Prophet?"

"He told me that he would influence my choices to change the course of time. To bring about a better future." I studied Henja as she listened to my words. Was she really being controlled by someone else, or was this part of some delusion too? Could a White be born and not be white? That didn't make any sense. Besides, it was pointless to worry about such things. Did not the Wit, Skill, and Hedge magics exist? I should not dismiss prescience so quickly.

Henja's smile widened. She spoke on and I found that the cold of the snow and the brightness of the day faded to the corners of my mind as I absorbed her gently spoken words. I could almost imagine that I saw her. A woman pale as milk, as the Fool had once been, speaking through the Outislander maid. "I imagine that he did. That is indeed the goal of a White Prophet, phrased in a very simple way. I will give you some knowledge that perhaps he has neglected to tell you. We are descendants of the Whites of old. Long ago, their prescience warned them that their time was ending. But it is the White way to try to shape time, and one White woman dared to make change. She saw a path, one single, unlikely path in which their influence could live on. She made the preservation of our blood line her mission, and she traveled the world seeking out the most noble and heroic of ordinary men, and to each she bore a child. Six sons and six daughters, all as human as could be. And their children were human. But once in every age, it is possible that two descendants of her children will meet and join together in love or in lust. The child born to them will be a White. That White will carry on the work of all other Whites, steering time out of it's set path, into a better future for all. 

The White will dream prophecies and spend years studying the prophecies of other Whites to try to build an image of what is to come. He or she will be schooled in how to navigate the myriad paths of possibilities and how to gently guide time down the paths that will lead to a better future. This education is something that the false-prophet thought unnecessary. It takes years of study, but when the White Prophet is ready, he or she ventures out into the world in search of his or her catalyst. For this age, that White is me, and you are my catalyst. There can be only one White Prophet to an age, and I had already begun my work when your false-prophet stepped in and claimed you.

You, catalyst, are the most important piece in all of this, for without the catalyst no change can be wrought and Whites would be doomed to watch, impotent, as time continued it’s cycle unaided, falling ever further into darkness. As I have already said, your unlikeliness makes your every action hold great significance and power to change the course of time. If you did not exist, imagine how different the world would have been! The false-prophet has used you so harshly in his meddling. How scarred you are, how hard used your life has been. Did you never feel that any of these things were wrong? Did you not feel trapped by the role and the life that you were forced into? Yes, I see that you agree. That is because they were wrong. He wielded your life like a sword in the hands of a child. Clumsy and without strength or knowledge. You know in your heart that you were meant to be wielded with grace and strength."

Here she paused and I voiced a question that struck me as a flaw in her so carefully painted picture. "How do you know that you are the true White Prophet? Could it not just as easily be the Fool?"

Henja laughed. "The Fool? How sweet. As to how I know, surely it is obvious. A White Prophet is meant to be White for all their days. Did he not tell you? I know his disguise as Lord Golden, and I know that he has darkened. It is the way of false prophets. The rest is prophecy. I will speak blunty because I feel that you would appreciate being fully informed. It is foretold that I will give you a son. The child that you have longed for because a part of you knew what was meant to be. We are to be not only prophetess and catalyst, but man and woman. Completing the whole that makes the world. Is that not happy news?"

I watched her as she spoke and knew that she believed every word. Nothing in her countenance betrayed a lie as she smiled and gave me time to absorb all that she had said. Did I believe her? Could I? The things she had told me of White Prophets matched what the Fool had, in bits and pieces, revealed to me. She did not deny that to be a catalyst was to be used. Did my dissatisfaction with and inability to accept the life that I had been forced into stem from some hidden knowledge that it was supposed to be different? I did not think so, but her beliefe in her words was evident, and I felt compelled to listen and absorb those words like the dry earth takes rain after a drought. Almost, I could see her smile curving another set of ivory lips. A son. I did not know this woman, and yet she spoke so confidently that we would have a child together. It was beyond strange, and ordinarily I would have rejected such a claim as nonsense. But if she was a prophet? I wavered between my longing to have a child that I could raise, my desire for her words to be true, and my skepticism. Henja rocked on her toes, her mannerisms very much reflecting the Fool’s as she perched there in the snow before me. She spoke again into my silence.

”It is.” She answered her own question, “I don’t blame you for not believing me. You will come to realize that I can be trusted in these things.”

I frowned. Building arguments against her was like building sand castles too close to the tide. ”You’re the Pale Woman.”

She cocked her head to one side, “A very general description, but yes.”

”Then Kebal Rawbread is your catalyst.”

She laughed quietly, “As a catalyst, the man was a failure. He is not like you.”

”You used him to attack the Six Duchies. Forged our citizens.”

”You think that I did that?” Her eyebrows raised. Before she had a chance to continue, the sound of footsteps reached us, penetrating the fog that had excluded all else. I blinked as though I’d stepped from darkness into light as Henja stood.

Marsh and Sly had returned with firewood. Without a backward glance at me, Henja took it from them and began to build a fire. I watched, feeling dazed.

 _Fitz?…. Fitz!_ Dutiful’s frantic Skilling gradually reached me. Had I raised my walls unthinkingly? I did not think so.

_I’m sorry Dutiful. I must have focused too much of my attention on a conversation._

I sensed Dutiful’s annoyance as well as his relief. _You reached out to me and suddenly you vanished. I thought perhaps something had befallen you._

_My apologies. I did not mean to worry you._

_Never mind. It’s alright as long as you’re fine._ Dutiful waved my apology away. There was much of Verity in his boy. I wished for the thousandth time that Verity could have lived to see him grow. _Why did you Skill to me?_

I wracked my brain, but could not recall what I had wanted to convey. It was disconcerting. I frowned as I replayed the events since we’d stopped. Nothing remarkable had occurred. _Sharptooth seems to want to participate in the conference between the Old Blood and Kettricken._ I recalled, _He doesn’t think that the Piebalds could survive an outright civil war._

_That’s good news. Perhaps you could talk to him and convince him that my mother really desires peace with the Old Blood?_

_He doesn’t seem to like me much, but I’ll try my best._

I would try. If the Piebalds could be persuaded out of their lust for revenge, it would go a long way to repairing the damage they’d done to the public’s opinion of the witted. Perhaps I would not need to kill anyone, I mused, if a peaceful solution could be found.

Fin and Hardy returned soon after, meatless, but Sharptooth had brought three hares. Marsh gave him a bit of good natured ribbing because of his comment on bringing back hares earlier, and the man took it with surprisingly little grumbling. To Henja went the task of cleaning and cooking the animals. It seemed odd, watching her systematically disassemble the creatures. She seemed out of place, but she pulled the skin free without tearing it, and seemed familiar with the task. I realized that it had been her way of speaking that made me think of her as something separate, as someone who would not ordinarily have to do such things herself. Gut sac, silver skin, sinew, and bones were left for scavengers to pick through, and the bared red meat was efficiently separated into pieces that could be cooked quickly over the fire. To my surprise, I was included in their simple lunch. Henja came to crouch in the snow in front of me once more, and fed me bits of meat. It was lean and a bit tough, but I was ravenous. I tried to avoid her eyes and very carefully did not think about prophets or sons. A little quirk of her lips told me that she knew what I was doing and found me amusing.

How was I supposed to handle what she had told me? It seemed that the only way to do so was awkwardly and with great confusion. I had no more pieces to the puzzle, but perhaps if I entertained the idea that she was a White Prophet, then things would become clearer.

My small share of the meat was too soon gone. Such small animals spread over such a large group did not make for a satisfying meal. Dervin, Melody, and Jay claimed their shares after we had already finished eating. They were sure-footed as they made their way through the trees and snow toward us, and I could tell that they were not unfamiliar with such rough living. The witted often lived solitary lives, just close enough to a town or village that they could occasionally venture in and purchase what they could not make with their own hands. They were hunters and trappers, farmers and weavers. With their animal partners, they became integrated into the natural world and only lightly touched the places where man had claimed absolute dominion. Perhaps it had not always been so, but certainly it was now. They had brought with them some fresh bread, and even Sharptooth seemed to lose his perpetual scowl as he ate it. Henja once more took the task of feeding me, but did not offer me any more information. The three Piebalds had brought back packs full of supplies, but I could see that another stop would be necessary before long, unless our destination was closer than I’d assumed.

Sharptooth nodded to himself as each member of his group returned. Once each member had eaten and re-organized their packs to accommodate their share of the extra supplies, he spoke. He had no need to signal or clap his hands to draw their attention, he simply began to speak in his low, growling voice, and the others stopped their conversations to listen. He first turned his attention to Dervin, "Any news of persuit?"

Dervin shook his head. His hair was long, curly, and unbound, and his prominent cheek bones and narrow jaw gave him a gaunt look. "We didn't hear anything. There were no guards either."

Jay spoke up, standing with his shoulders squared and his chest out, "There was a mention of Piebalds, but only a rumor that we'd been at Buckkeep. Nobody said anything about trying to catch us."

Sharptooth nodded, "I doubled back a bit while you were gone. Haven't seen any trace of whatever was following us. Odds are that it was just an animal taking the trail by coinsidence. We all know the Bastard's not bonded."

This caught my attention and I expanded my wit awareness. Beyond our company I could sense nothing else near by except for a few small things that could have been birds. Not even Fennel could I find. Perhaps he'd taken my advice and gone back to Buckkeep to find Hap or Dutiful.

As the Piebalds nodded to his words, Sharptooth spoke on, "We continue as planned. Everyone get moving."

The Piebalds followed his orders, readying themselves to leave in a practiced manner. I wondered how far away our destination was. Hardy nudged Jay and gestured at him to bring me and Jay scowled. "I don't see why we can't just kill him now." He grumbled, uncaring if I heard him.

Fin chuckled, "Careful what you say, boy. Witted bastard'll rise from the grave and eat you." It was a mockery of all the tales the un-Witted had spun about me.

Jay turned his scowl on Fin, "Shut up. I'm not a boy, and I don't care if he hears me. I'm not scared of him."

Melody spoke up, cutting Fin's reply off, "Jay, men shouldn't boast. A man's actions speak for him." She turned her frown on Fin as well, "And men should know better than to believe those tales."

Fin rubbed his face with the arm of his sleeve and shifted from foot to foot, "I didn't mean any harm, Mel. Just having a bit of fun. The boy's too serious." He defended himself. 

Sharptooth cut in, "Come on, enough chatter. Let's get moving. We wasted enough time here as it is."

The three fell silent and continued on with their tasks. I heard Fin whisper to Hardy, "He's the one what wanted us to stop." But Hardy patted his shoulder and did not respond. Neither would openly challenge Sharptooth.

Somehow I was once again seated atop my horse. Our journey continued and, as no one would speak to me, I occupied my thoughts by trying to piece together all of the events that had made chaos of my life. Were it not for Henja's involvement, I would have thought the Piebalds and the Prince's betrothal to the Narcheska to be totally separate events. Henja created a link between those two, and to the Red Ship War, which was another tie to the Outislands. If she could be believed, and Henja was really the tool of the Pale Woman, her involvement created a link to the Fool as well. No matter how I turned the events, they could not seem to fit together. My mind went back to something the Fool had told me: the Pale Woman wanted to create a future where the Farseers did not exist. Did that mean that she was manipulating both the Narcheska and the Piebalds to somehow reach that end? It was easy to see how the Piebalds had planned to end the Prince. Sharptooth seemed more in favour of negotiation though. Was her influence failing?

So many thoughts and so few answers. I expanded my wit awareness once more, but could not detect any large flames of life. I had hoped for a time that perhaps Chade had sent a man after us. The lack of communication was unnerving. At least Dutiful would be returned to the keep soon, I thought. 

As I skilled to him that we were on the move once more, I wondered if my life would ever again be simple.


	21. Winter Colours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if the pacing is a bit odd in this chapter. It was written quite quickly! If you have any suggestions for improvement I'd be happy to hear them.

As usual, the Piebalds did not talk to me while we rode. In fact, they largely ignored me. I spent some time that afternoon trying to think of ways to coax Jay into conversation, since he was the one closest to me, but my lame attempts were unacknowledged. I thought of provoking the boy into anger, but could not forsee gaining much from it. He was close to Hap's age, to my best approximation, and it woke in me a strange horror that a boy so young would be involved in the Piebald's cause. I had been an assassin at his age, true, and had killed for my king, but it had been my duty and a service to the Six Duchies, not treason. I wondered if he truly believed all that the Piebalds stood for or if he had simply been following his father's will. His mother, Melody, seemed like a reasonable woman. Were she and Jay trapped by some threat to them should they try to leave the Piebalds? I had heard tales of whole families slaughtered for their refusal to join, and certainly many had been exposed as witted. Did they fear a similar fate?

That thought led me to consider the whole group. How many were forced into joining the Piebalds by fear? How many of them stayed for the same reason, afraid that their fellows would turn on them in violence? I thought back to the pilgrims that I had briefly accompanied as they journeyed with smugglers into the Mountain Kingdom. Certainly they had all been afraid and weary, but none had been willing to be the first to voice doubt. They had been trapped by their cause and encouraged eachother in their attempts to convince themselves that what they did was necessary. Even without the threat of death hovering over them, the effect was a powerful one.

Could the Piebalds be feeling some doubt in their cause? There had certainly been fanatics among them, Laudwine included. Those forced into joining would have feared to speak against them, and they would not have been likely to voice doubts to eachother either, for fear that the other was actually a willing member of the cause. It trapped them all into their roles very neatly.

Hardy and Fin were likely members by choice, but without much understanding of what they did. They boasted of the power of the Piebalds and I had seen Melody look on in disapproval as they encouraged Jay's belief in their cause. Her husband had been one of the men I'd killed the night that Dutiful was nearly kidnapped again, so he had most likely joined willingly and taken his family with him. Since his father was killed it seemed that Jay was warming to the Piebalds and was trying hard to be accepted as a man among them. If they weren't stopped, Jay could end up being another Laudwine. The thought made my blood run cold.

I did not know much about Dervin, Marsh, or Sly. I suspected that they sided with Sharptooth. Where Laudwine had been fueled by firey grief and rage, Sharptooth seemed filled with a soldier's cold determination. I approved of his stance that the Piebalds could not prevail in a civil war, and that they should participate in negotiations with Kettricken. In that, he seemed less a Piebald and more Old Blood. I did not allow myself to like the man, which was easy because of the disrespectful way that he treated me, but I did find myself warming to Dutiful's suggestion that I speak with him.

That was easier said than done. Sharptooth rode at the head of our procession followed by Sly and Dervin, then Melody, Henja, Jay and I, and finally Marsh, Hardy, and Fin. We rode single file when the paths would not permit us to pass in groups, which was often, and even when we bunched more closely together, conversation with Sharptooth was impossible. So it was that I found myself trying to find things to say to Jay.

Even that was stopped though, as Henja relieved Jay of my horse's head to allow him to drop back and ride with the men. To Henja, I would say nothing at all. I avoided meeting her eyes, but was unable to miss the slight smirk she sent my way.

I could not think of Henja, no, the Pale Woman, without my thoughts being tumbled into a stormy sea of confusion. No sooner did my thoughts break the surface than they were tumbled back beneath the waves. If the Fool was correct, the Pale Woman was evil. If she was allowed to influence time, then the Farseer line would end, dragons would not return to the Earth, and time would be plunged into some dark and horrible future.

The Pale Woman had said that she wanted to use me as a catalyst, though, not kill me. If I lived, the Farseer line continued, especially if I had a son. I turned my thoughts away from that direction. So, she did not necessarily want the end of the Farseers, if her words could be trusted. In fact, she had been encouraging the alliance between the Six Duchies and the Outislands. Both lands would prosper. What need did she have of the Piebalds? It seemed as though her goal had been to use them to get to me. Or had it really been a plot against the Farseers? The Piebalds had tried again and again to be rid of Dutiful. Had the Pale Woman endorsed those actions, or had Laudwine been beyond her control?

I scowled in frustration at myself. I knew that puzzling over the situation while there were still too many missing pieces was a futile exercise, but there was really very little else for me to do. I sighed. After the initial excitement of being taken as a willing captive of the Piebalds and fishing for information, I had first grown restless, and then bored. I counted my poison packets and blades mentally. I had set out with the intention to murder, but it seemed now that the best course of action would be to attempt to reason with Sharptooth, if such a thing could be done. It was the fanatics and the madmen among the Piebalds that would need to meet a quiet end. I was supposedly being taken to their leaders for trial. Would I even have a chance to pick and choose my victims?

My mind went down a new track. Too much was out of my control while I remained the Piebald's prisoner. I did not know where we went and I did not know if I could expect to survive once we arrived. The information that I gathered was limited to what I could overhear. I could be a more effective spy if I had a position among them. While that seemed impossible now, perhaps I could do more than reason with Sharptooth. If he could begin to see me as an ally, perhaps the situation could be turned to my advantage. How could I do that when he hated me, though? We shared the belief that the Piebalds should stop the senseless violence of the past months, but would that be enough?

"You sigh often, FitzChivalry. Does something trouble you?"

I was jolted from my thoughts by Henja's voice. She was watching me like a cat watches a flock of birds. Snow was falling gently. It was no longer the powdery crystals that fell in the deepest cold, but large and fluffy clumps that formed stars in her dark hair. Her use of my name made me cast a reflexive glance about us. Melody had ridden ahead to speak to Sly and Jay was laughing at something Hardy had said, looking younger without his perpetual frown. Their distance left us with as much privacy as we could get.

"I'm a prisoner." I informed her, "I think that would trouble just about anyone."

She smiled, "But not you. I know that you came to us willingly. I also know that you will not be carrying out your original mission. Why would I have let you keep your weapons otherwise? Surely you do not think me so stupid as to neglect searching a trained assassin out of carelessness. So, what troubles you?"

I had wondered that, and felt a moment of irritation that I could not explain. She'd willingly let an armed assassin into her party. Had she thought I was incompetent?

She laughed quietly, "How amusing. Oh, don't look like that. I do not insult you. I simply see where this path will lead."

I scowled, "Then you know that I cannot allow the Piebalds to continue making attacks on the Prince."

Henja hummed assent, her expression tolerant of my snappishness. "Oh, don't worry. They won't be trying that again. It was mostly Laudwine's foolish desire for revenge, and you've put an end to him. I only allowed him to continue because it might draw you out."

"If you wanted to talk to me, there were simpler, less treasonous ways of doing that."

"Yes." She admitted, easily, "There were many ways. But only a few that led towards the future I wish to build."

I took a moment before responding and decided that perhaps being agreeable would win me more information than aggression. "What future is that? You haven't actually told me."

"I haven't? How remiss of me. You've heard of Beloved's vision for the future, no doubt. It is a lovely day. Can you imagine this same day with dragons soaring through the skies? After the Red Ship War, I'm sure you can. The Outislanders certainly can. Many were killed in those days." She shot me a sideways glance. I would not apologize for my role in that. The Outislanders had left us with no other choice. She continued, "Dragons respect no boundaries and they view the entire world as their hunting ground. Can you imagine the grief of the farmer who finds his flocks of sheep or herds of cattle have been devoured in the night? How would he feed his family? Imagine, even now, a dragon diving from the clouds to feast on one of our comrades. Humans are just another kind of animal to them. How could humans thrive if every day must be a battle for survival? If the destruction caused by such an immense predator is not enough, consider this: they were warlike as well. Imagine the destruction of the Red Ship Wars amplified a thousand times. What good could come of that? While Beloved would see humans become meat for dragons, I wish to see humans flourish. In my future, humans thrive and civilizations grow. The chaos and brutality of the world is tamed. Time does move in a great circle. The magic of the Elderlings would indeed be restored, but better, and it would be available not to a small group, but to all. I cannot claim that all of the world's problems will be fixed. Progress is a gradual thing, and future Whites will build off of my work to futher improve the world. This is what I aim for."

I contemplated her words. Such a future did not seem so bad to me. The Fool had said that humans would bring nature completely under their control. I somehow felt compelled to speak my doubts aloud, "The Fool told me that man's will would subvert nature entirely if dragons were not restored. That eventually all of the animals would disappear and humans would kill eachother off."

She gave a tiny scoff of disbelief, "Humans can be greedy and thoughtless, but even so, they would not allow all of the animals to die out. Change, yes. With humans being the dominant species, of course others would either adapt or perish, but humans will always have need of and enjoy other animals. Have you so little faith in your own species?"

"It depends on the person." I said. Someone like Regal I could easily see thoughtlessly killing off all of the peacocks for their feathers.

For some reason that made her laugh. Melody looked back at us curiously for a moment. I said nothing and Henja allowed the conversation to lapse into the sound of the horse's hooves and the quiet talk of the others for a time before speaking again, "You will have to decide soon, catalyst. It is ultimately your will that will decide the fate of the world."

It did not seem that it was so to me, tied up on a horse's back with no idea where we were going. I didn't respond to her words. For all of my life, what happened around me just seemed inevitable. Certainly I had left my mark on the world through my action or inaction, but I had not done anything with the distant future in mind. I was influenced by the world around me as much as I influenced the world, if not more so. If I could have followed my own will, I would have spent the last decade and a half with Molly, raising our daughter and possibly a few more little boys or girls. And surely it was Dutiful's will that would decide if Icefyre was killed or not. I did not know why the Fool, this woman, and even Chade would choose me as a tool. It seemed to me that every major decision of my life had been a mistake that resulted in disaster. It seemed impossible that my life could be used to improve the world. I hadn't improved Molly's or Nettle's. If I had gone to Verity sooner, perhaps we could have woken the dragons without him needing to sacrifice his life. If I had not slain Serene and Justin so publicly, would Celerity's father have been killed so horribly? I ruminated on my failures and became ever more certain that I would fail to live up to the expectations that were placed on me. Sharptooth had the right idea about me.

We traveled on. The benefit of my brief conversation with Henja was also a curse. I had more to think about, but no more answers than I'd had to begin with. It was maddening, and in an effort to swim free of the melancholy that swept over me, I tried to break my plans down into manageable chunks. First, I would try to speak with Sharptooth and try to build an understanding of my enemy. I would determine if the Piebalds could be brought into control peacefully, and if not, who stood in the way of that goal. My father had apparently been a gifted diplomat, and at times in my life a similar talent had manifested in me. Hopefully it would not fail me now. Henja knew about my assassin's tools and seemed confident that I would not use them. Indeed, I would not, yet, but her easy assumption of the fact unnerved me.

Winter was coming to an end, but the nights were still chill and the cold was reluctant to give up it's hold on the earth. The evening found me once again sitting on the cold, hard ground with my wrists and ankles bound. Melody and Sly went off for firewood this time, while Hardy and Fin set up the tents and Marsh and Dervin took the usual task of hunting. Sharptooth oversaw his men and Henja watched Sharptooth as she tended to the horses. The horses were given a measure of grain and busied themselves nosing frozen grass from under the layer of snow that remained. While they were tied to keep them from running off, at least they were more comfortable than I was, and better fed. Jay was still my reluctant caretaker and was resistant to any attempts to talk. Nevertheless, I tried as he sullenly led me away from the group so that I could relieve myself. We went a bit further than usual. The trees had become more sparse, and much of the land was covered in scrub brush. We were nearing the rockier part of Buck, and were probably near Forge. I wondered if we would be taking transport on the Buck River in the days to come. How far would we travel?

"You really can untie my hands, you know." I pointed out once again, "Where could I run?"

"Nice try." Jay glared at me.

"My legs are free. I could run if I wanted to. The rope on my wrists wouldn't actually do much to stop me."

"I'd kill you before you got far." The boy was so confident.

"All the more reason why you could untie my wrists."

"You're bigger than me. I could kill you while your hands are tied, but if I let you free you could kill me first, before you run."

At least he wasn't too confident. That was good for him, but not for me. The humiliation of needing his assistance to avoid soiling my clothes was not something that lessened with time. Truthfully, I could have killed him even with my wrists bound, but I saw no reason to point that out to him. I spoke gently, "I didn't want to kill your father, Jay, and I wouldn't kill you. I'm not that kind of a man. I killed in defense of two boys who were out numbered and scared for their lives."

"I told you not to mention my da. I could do a lot of damage while you piss, so just keep your mouth shut."

I pressed my luck, betting that he wouldn't actually do any damage to my anatomy. I shuddered to think of what would happen if I was wrong. "He made you join the Piebalds, didn't he? You know that he was doing things that he could be punished severely for."

Jay tightened his grip on my arm and kept his eyes ahead as he responded, "I know that. I'm not dumb. But they deserved it and so do you, so just shut up."

"The Queen has been working hard to stop further killing of Old Blood. Piebalds killing people will only make the unwitted folk more scared of us. The more scared they are the more likely they are to continue with the killing, then when would it end?"

Jay growled and stopped, turning to face me and glare up at me, hatred contorting his features. "It'll end when every one of them is dead! They should be scared of us! Scared of what will happen if they kill a Piebald. We're better than they are. Why should we be the ones cowering in fear?"

"Jay!" A woman's voice came from ahead of us. Melody and Sly emerged from the scrub. They carried no firewood yet, and Melody's cheeks were red with anger or embarrassment. She hastened ahead of her cousin to put a restraining hand on Jay's shoulder. "Jay, stop this. You don't know what you're saying."

The lad rounded on his mother, shaking her hands off like flies, "I know exactly what I'm saying. Death to anyone who's killed a Piebald and death to this traitor!" He spat on the ground at my feet and then stalked off, abandoning his position as my guard to put distance between himself and his mother.

Melody looked as though she might call him back, but Sly came forward and took her hand, shaking his head, "Let him go, Mel."

Melody turned a reproachful look on Sly, but did not pull away, "Let him go? So he can get himself killed too?"

Sly squeezed her hand, "We won't let him." He fixed his eyes on me, as though just realizing that they were not alone, but it was Melody who moved. She took out her beltknife and moved behind me to cut the binding on my wrists. I was nervous at having her blade so near me, but she did not so much as scratch me. The rope fell to the snow, and I flexed my fingers and arms gratefuly.

"Thank you." I said, neutraly. I watched her as she came to stand beside Sly again. Did she share her son's hatred of me for having killed her husband, or Sharptooth's distain for the hero who failed to save his people?

I saw neither in her gaze. Only sadness. She slid her knife into her belt again and looked up at me as she spoke, "We told him stories about you when he was a boy. Every one knows them. How you tried to kill Regal the Pretender, how you fought the raiders at Antler Island. No one thought it was wrong that you sided with the Farseers, because it was The Pretender that fanned the flames of people's hatred of us. You were the bastard son, fighting to serve the true king. It was admirable. You were a hero and witted, a rare combination in these times when we must live in fear. But when the executions of Old Blood continued, many thought it was cowardly that you did nothing. That you continued to side with the Farseers, who became the enemy for allowing us to die."

"I'm sorry." I found that it was the only response I could make. "I never thought of myself as a hero. I just wanted to live in peace."

"So did we all. Perhaps it was wrong of us to expect you to fight our battles for us. That is how the Piebalds came to be. My husband lost a brother and father in the days of The Pretender's reign and he was one of the first to join. Please." She looked up at me earnestly, "Stop us before my son follows his father's path."

"I don't know what I can do. I'm just one man."

"You're still the hero from the old tales. The reason Jay is so angry with you is because he still wants to believe in that hero. Please, convince him to abandon this path before it's too late."

Sly nudged Melody, "That's enough, Mel. Leave the man alone. There's no such thing as heroes. Just men doing what they have to do, and we'll take care of Jay."

I studied the two of them. Melody's desperation shon in her eyes. She was a typical Buck woman, with dark, thick hair and it seemed that stress had diminished a once full figure. Sly was, in contrast, tall and thin. He reminded me a bit of Slink. The two cousins were close, and Melody was unconsciously leaning into the shelter of Sly's body.

"I don't think that I could convince him." I admitted, "But if you do manage to escape, then go to Buckkeep and ask the Queen for shelter. No one can hurt you there."

Melody shook her head, "We can't. They have our partners, and I won't abandon my Windwing, I won't."

Before I could ask who 'they' were, there was the sound of footsteps behind us. Sharptooth had come to see what had sent Jay back to camp without me. He scowled darkly around at all of us, "What's going on here?" He demanded.

Sly answered easily, "Bastard and Jay got into an argument and the kid stormed off. We were just going to let the Bastard do his business."

Sharptooth eyed us appraisingly for a moment longer, taking in my unbound wrists. "Not something a woman needs to see. Melody, Sly, finish getting the firewood. I'll watch him."

The two departed swiftly, leaving me alone with Sharptooth. I kept my arms at my sides, unthreatening and he snorted contemptuously, "Well, get to it, Bastard. I ain't got all night."

I did as I was told and he loomed nearby to make sure that I didn't run. As I finished, he suddenly raised an arm to grab me. My training served me well, and I evaded him, but was caught sufficiently off guard that I did not avoid his other hand, which grabbed me by my jerkin. He pulled me close and glared, menacingly. "Don't cause trouble, worm, or I'll see to it that it's the last thing you do." Then he shoved me down and I landed in the dirtied snow. The change in my mood was sudden. For a moment, I was so filled with rage that it took all of my self control not to slice his throat with one of my concealed blades. I could do it and I could kill any others who tried to stop me. I snarled up at him. His image melded with my memories of the guards who'd beaten me in Regal's dungeon. He'd bleed out in the snow and the rest would follow soon enough. I didn't need to play prisoner. I would kill them and Henja would tell me where the others were. I'd end the Piebalds. My fists clenched.

"Pathetic." Sharptooth mocked me, unimpressed by my anger. "Get up."

I lunged. He was a larger man than me, but I had begun to regain muscle since my Skill healing, and my fury had always lent me an unnatural strength. He aimed a punch at my midsection, and I cannot recall whether it connected or not. I have only fragments of memories of the next moments: my teeth in his arm and the taste of his blood, his knee in my side, the smell of sweat, piss, and blood. His fist connected with my face, and I think that was the moment when I felt I truly was back in Regal's dungeon, fighting for my life. I hated him then, and I was too caught by my rage to think of my blades or my poisons. When awareness came back to me, I had Sharptooth's own beltknife pressed against his throat. "I'm on your side." I growled at him, panting, "I want the death to stop just as much as you do. Don't you ever think you can treat me like that again."

Then I was on my back, the breath knocked out of me from a kick to the stomach. I choked, trying to convince my paralyzed diaphragm to draw air into my lungs. Sharptooth stood over me, wiping a drop of blood from the side of his neck. He caught his breath before I did, "I said get up." he commanded, voice low.

I lay there for a time, letting my breath and my sanity come back to me. My mind reeled from the sudden rush of rage that had washed over me and then abandoned me like driftwood washed ashore by a wave. It was dizzying. After I recovered my breath, I came to my feet and followed him back to the camp.

Jay was with Hardy and Fin when I returned. They looked up from their work and raised their eyebrows over our battered appearances and my lack of restraints. Sly and Melody had not yet finished gathering firewood. Dervin and Marsh were not back yet either. Henja watched us, a slight smile curving her lips.

"Quit gawking and tie him up, Hardy." Sharptooth commanded.

I stood still and let Hardy bind my wrists and ankles once more. He eyed me warily the whole time. 

What had come over me? I knew the answer the moment I asked the question of myself. Torture changes a man. In Regal's dungeon I had been stripped of all dignity and my body had been broken beyond repair. They had absolute control over me and my body became my own prison. I had been helpless to stop them. Some men become meek after such an experience, fearful of ever being hurt in such a way again. Others still feel that fear, but will lash out and attack. Hurt before they can be hurt. That was my instinctive response to pain now. The scars that Regal had left on me were not only in my flesh but etched into my mind, my personality. It disguested me that anything he did could have so deeply affected me.

And I had nearly ruined my plans. Would Sharptooth listen to me now that I'd attacked him? Would he despise me even more, or had I in some way earned his respect by not cowering before his abuse? I studied the man, but he ignored me and I did not know him well enough to infer anything from that. Now that I had calmed down, the pain from my injuries made itself known. I shifted, trying to determine if any major damage had been done. I was bruised, to be sure. My ribs on my right side ached and I thought several might at least be cracked. My stomach was sore where I had been kicked, but there were no sharp pains indicative of serious damage. I did not think my nose was broken. Satisfied, I turned my mind to what Melody had revealed to me.

Someone was holding her witbeast, and possibly others, hostage. I did not know who, but I resolved to find a moment to speak with Melody or Sly and find out. She seemed to think that I could convince her son to leave the Piebalds. That I was some sort of hero. I agreed more with Sly's sentiment. I was just a man, and I had done what I'd had to do to survive. Why did everyone expect more of me than that?

I let my thoughts drift for a time. Melody and Sly returned eventually, firewood carried on their backs with leather strips. Melody's eyes sought mine nervously, and then she looked away. The meat that Dervin and Marsh brought back was served with more bread and some of the last harvest's apples that had been bought during the trip to town. The horses were glad of the apple cores. I would have been glad of an apple core, too. Since I'd fought with him, it seemed that Sharptooth was not in the mood to order anyone to feed me. The Piebalds glanced from me to Sharptooth occasionally, but were wise enough to say nothing.

Marsh took the first watch that night. As twilight faded into complete darkness, Hardy took his turn. It was a milder night than most, but the chill still stiffened my injuries and made them ache uncomfortably. Even so I wished that I could hold some of the snow against my bruised face.

By the time the moon had full dominion over the sky, Fin took his watch, yawning and scratching. The Piebalds paid little mind to me, and I allowed myself to dose. I was not quite asleep when I felt something touch my arm. I stiffened, immediately alert. Fin was drowsing by the fire. I cautiously extended my witsense, thinking that it might be Fennel again. I sensed nothing. Had a bit of snow fallen from the tree and landed on me? I shifted. 

"Shh. Stay still." Came a barely audible whisper. The cold weight on my arm became an icy hand, and I felt my bonds give way. I did my best not to turn around to look at the Fool. I held my position even as I felt the rope at my ankles being cut away. My mind raced. How had she followed me?

"Can we run? Do you have anything to make them stay asleep?" She breathed.

I shook my head minutely. I'd prepared death for the Piebalds, not sleep. My mind struggled to catch up with this turn of events. The Fool was rescuing me, but she must have known that I went willingly. To leave now would ruin my mission against the Piebalds. 

A light tug on my arm. When I hesitated, she tugged again more insistently. I turned to look at her. The Fool was as pale as I'd ever seen her in the moonlight, and for the first winter in years, she was clothed all in black and white. It was not a motley, but some strange creation that was probably designed for camoflauge in the snow. It looked warm, but her lips were blueish with cold. She smiled to see me look at her, then frowned as she took in the bruise on my face. She tugged on my arm again, then paused and cocked her head, "Are you unable to stand?"

I shook my head then replied as quietly as I could, "I'm fine. What are you doing? I'm here on purpose."

The Fool pursed her lips then renewed her tugging, "We have to go. It's a trap. It's all part of her plan. We have to leave, now. Please, Fitz." 

Our talking had finally attracted attention. I heard Fin give a shout of surprise that turned to alarm as a ginger blur streaked past me. I turned to see Fennel leaping at Fin's face.

I made my decision in a moment. We had been caught and I knew that my friend would not leave without me. I rose, ignoring my protesting limbs, and began to run away from the camp, pulling the Fool behind me.


	22. Prey

My lungs burned and my ribs ached. I cursed as I stumbled and longed for the days when my night vision had been as keen as a wolf’s. I refused to let the thought of Nighteyes slow me. While the Fool had been tugging my arm to leave minutes before, now I held her forearm in a bruising grip as I pulled her along behind me. I was more experienced in navigating game trails and dense bush, and I quickly found a likely path and took us down it.

It did not take long for the Piebalds to be roused from their slumber and give chase. I heard an arrow clatter off of a tree behind us and I turned us sharply into the thicker scrub. It scratched at my face and clothing, but I would not release the Fool’s arm and the branches would prevent the archers from getting a clear shot. I knew of no way to mask the feeling of my life that a witted one would sense, but I tried anyway, keeping myself small and tight as though I was with Nighteyes hunting a deer rather than the prey being hunted.

I ran blindly, without a destination. I only knew that we could not stop. The Fool tried to explain as I led us, but I shushed her. True, our passage was noisy enough as it was to alert the Piebalds where we’d run, but I wanted to be able to hear them coming. Once I judged we’d gone far enough, I began to give thought to making our trail less obvious. Spending some of the precious ground we’d gained, I doubled us back and took us in a new direction. I cursed the snow that held our tracks and tried to stick to the patches were the snow had melted away. The ground was frozen still, and I hoped it would make our path less obvious.

I halted. The Fool came to a stop behind me, stifling her breaths behind her free hand. I released her wrist and she frowned and looked around us, puzzled, but was smart enough not to say anything. I listened intently. I could hear the Piebalds not far away. Would it be smarter to hide or continue fleeing? Adrenaline masked my hurts, which I was thankful for, and heightened my senses. I was used to being the hunter, the assassin, the warrior. Running and hiding like this disagreed with me. I was startled from my contemplation when the Fool wrapped her long fingers around my wrist and pulled us onwards. If it was a coincidence that her gloved fingertips unerringly found the Skill marks that she’d left on me so long ago, I cannot say. Despite the layers of cloth between us, I felt a jolt go through me that had heat like brandy and made me gasp. I pulled free of her grip more roughly than I intended and the Fool halted and turned to look at me questioningly and with a small wrinkle in her brow that suggested I’d hurt her feelings.

The moonlight washed away all trace of tawniness from my friend’s features, save for her eyes which shone amber in the darkness. She wore a woollen cap over her fine, long hair. It was tied back, but wisps of it floated freely in the breeze. It had always seemed lighter than air, and it reminded me of a spider’s thread as the starlight reflected off of the dancing strands. She opened her mouth, perhaps to ask me why I’d stopped, but I silenced her by taking her hand. She looked puzzled for a moment, then a smile broke out on her features, full of mischief and excitement tinged with just a little fear. Her teeth were very white. For a moment, we were boys again, making ribald jokes that we knew Kettle would scold us for, and waking stone dragons while Regal’s army of Skilled ones tried to kill us. This was my old friend, and I found an answering grin spread across my features before I knew I’d done it. This was a sense of adventure I’d not felt for years. Her fingers tightened around mine and she turned, leading us stealthily onward. She was nimble, and the darkness seemed to bother her not at all as she danced around the white patches on the ground, following a path that I could not see.

We stopped once the sounds of pursuit had faded and I stood still a moment, senses alert. The air was crisp and cool, and our breath formed short-lived clouds before being carried off and dissipated by the wind. Despite the cold, it smelled like spring, with a grassy, earthy smell that always foretold warmer weather to come. It was dark, but the light from the moon filtered down through the branches to us. The Fool took her hand from mine to pull a few twigs from her hair and smiled shakily. What was I doing? 

I blew out a long breath and spoke quietly, cautiously, “Fool, what are you doing here? You know I cannot leave. The Piebalds must be stopped.”

The last of her merriment faded from her features, leaving the Fool looking rather miserable in the cold. “I told you. Where you go, I go, and I cannot let you go alone into this. She’s manipulating you. She wanted to draw you out of the keep and she succeeded. This whole scenario is of her making, her noose tightening around the neck of the world.”

I shook my head, “This is the most information we’ve ever gotten about the Piebalds. Once Dutiful goes back to Buckkeep, he can relay all to Chade and we can plan our move against them. Someone is forcing their hands and keeping their beasts hostage.”

The Fool looked frustrated, “It’s her. It has always been her. They are but her puppets, and she wishes to make you one of them as well. We have to leave. The longer you follow the path she’s set, the more strongly time flows into the channel of her choosing. What she does by controlling the Piebalds is nothing compared to what she could do with you.”

”I am capable of making my own decisions, Fool, I am not going to end the world because some woman tells me to.”

She shook her head, “Fitz, you don’t understand. She’s clever and far more experienced than I. You would do her will without even being aware that it was anything but what you wanted. She will lie to you and use you and then she’ll kill you because that’s what she _does_ with those she has no use for.” The Fool wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the cold.

”She has actually been remarkably honest with me, Fool. I think you’re mistaken. The future that she describes does not sound so -“

The Fool cut me off by grabbing my forearms, her grip surprisingly strong. She stood nearly chest to chest with me. “She spoke to you?” Her eyes were very wide as they searched my face, “Don’t say that. Please, Fitz. Beloved, please believe me. She is ruthless. She’ll destroy you. There are no Farseers in her world. She won’t spare you, or Nettle, or Dutiful, no-one. Please trust me.”

My resolve wavered, I will admit. The Fool was a normally proud person. Not proud to the point of arrogance, and certainly not above performing a jester’s tricks, but she had dignity. To hear her beg so earnestly worried me. She was shaking, and for the first time I perceived that it might not be due to the cold. “Why are you so afraid?”

The Fool said nothing for a moment, then bowed her head. She took a slow breath and spoke quietly, but in a voice full of so many emotions that I cannot say for certain what it was she felt, “I’m terrified, Fitzy, because I see my ending. I have known it and seen my end-dream since I was very small. Possibly before I was born. I know what it means now and I am scared because she will kill me, but worse than that…” Her breath caught and she cleared her throat before continuing, “Fitz, I love you. If you choose her it would be worse than death. My whole life, my purpose is to return dragons to the world. There are no paths left that end well for me. What you choose will condemn me to death or to a life not worth living, so please, please don’t let the life I’ve had be for naught.”

She let go of my forearms to wipe at her face. I stood frozen as she wept silently. I had never seen the Fool cry before and it was alarming. It was wrong that such a merry creature would ever cry. In my distress, my words came out harshly, “Don’t be ridiculous. You aren’t going to die and your life will never be for nothing.”

”You don’t understand. I knew you wouldn’t, you don’t want to.” She sniffled.

”There’s nothing to understand, you aren’t going to die.”

”I know you don’t like it, Fitz.” A small, watery smile, “I’m glad that you care that much for me.”

”Of course I care, you’re my dearest friend.” I frowned. “But it doesn’t matter, since it’s not going to happen.”

”There are things worse than death. Please, let’s leave, now. We can escape.”

”I can’t, Fool. That won’t solve the problem of the Piebalds.”

The Fool opened her mouth to respond, but her words became a cry of shock, her eyes opening comically wide as she fell forward, off balanced by some force. I caught her against my chest and stared for a moment at the arrow protruding from my friend’s body before my mind grasped what had happened. My eyes flew to the trees and they found Marsh partially concealed behind a tree. I scanned the surrounding brush and found Dervin behind us and to my left, another arrow ready to fly and trained on us. I used my wit as much as my eyes to find them. The Fool was not unconscious. I felt her weight shift in my arms as she attempted to feel for her injury and I heard her gasp as her fingers jarred the arrow. I tightened my grip. Had it struck anything vital?

My mind raced through possibilities. We could not out run them now and I doubted that I could move fast enough to escape Dervin’s arrow. Marsh had nocked a second. They could not take us with bows though, not if they wanted us alive. They would have to approach. Would I fight them? Did the Fool have any chance at all if I did? Somehow I could not bare the thought of putting the Fool down in the cold snow and so I supported her. She tensed at the same time that I heard footsteps approach. Henja emerged from the darkness, striding past Marsh with confidence. She looked at us and smiled the same small smile she’d given me when I’d returned with Sharptooth. What I felt then must have been what a bird feels when fixed in the gaze of a hunting cat. The Fool twisted in my arms and made a low sound of fear as she looked on Henja. “Fitz…” She pleaded, breathlessly, in fragments. “It’s her. That woman is her creature. Please.”

Henja did not stop until she stood perhaps six paces before me. “Well, well.” She spoke softly, “If it isn’t the false prophet. Causing trouble as usual.”

I did not release the Fool who watched Henja’s approach with dread. I sensed that she armed her tongue with every sharp edged word she could find, but her hands trembled as they gripped my arm, and I could smell the coppery tang of her blood. It woke a surge of protectiveness in me and I snarled.

Henja simply smiled, “Do you desire my death, Catalyst? You could kill me if you wished it, the path is there. Will you use one of your hidden blades to pierce my heart? Or will it be poison?”

I said nothing. Marsh and Dervin did not relax their guard on us. If they had, in that moment, I think I would have chanced an attack.

The Pale Woman spoke on with her vessel’s voice, “I did not shoot the arrow. You have no cause to bare your teeth at me.”

The Fool spoke quietly, “Don’t listen, Fitz. If she wins then everything will be ruined.”

Henja’s eyes narrowed, “Even now he tries to pit his paltry influence against mine. He begs you to listen to him because of your friendship. I suppose he even suggested that I would kill him, am I correct? If you care for him then you should do whatever he wishes. Something a child says to get their way. How inelegant.” She took a step closer, “But if you use your mind, you know that I am right. The world must progress, not remain stagnant and primitive.”

The Fool surprised me by pulling free of my hold and standing between Henja and I. I knew from experience that every breath must have been agony for her. “Greed, war, and the destruction of man kind; yes, I can see how one such as you would think that progress. Cruelty has always been your greatest appetite, though only just.”

Henja hissed, “Insolent child.” She moved forward as though to strike the Fool, but as she saw me begin to move to intercept her she stopped. Marsh and Dervin’s arrows remained trained on me. She stood for a moment, hate filled eyes locked on the trembling Fool before her, then turned her gaze on me. It was cold as ice. “I have tried to reason with you, FitzChivalry Farseer, but I have no qualms about using force when necessary. I have men in your court who are prepared to kill on my command. They could target the Six Duchies nobles, the Witted delegates, or your mentor, Chade Fallstar with equal ease. Any and all of these would work to my benefit in the end.” She smiled, “Do you doubt me? Your half-wit, Thick, is mine, along with several other servants. Come with me and I will ensure that no deaths occur.”

I could not doubt her confident determination, and her words froze me in my place. The woman in the blue cloak whom I’d thought was Sada. The lady who gave Thick his pennies. My mind reeled. Quick as a snake, she darted forward and ripped the arrow from the Fool’s back. The Fool cried out and crumpled to the frozen ground. She did not stand back up, and I watched in horror as the patches of snow were dyed red. Henja looked at me, holding the blood soaked weapon. Her eyes met mine and I saw the colourless irises of the woman thousands of miles away.

”You are mine, Catalyst.”

There was no way out. There was no running with the two archers poised to shoot and the Fool injured. No likely victory by putting up a fight. Just minutes before, I had been arguing my reasons for staying. Now I feared that I had been walking into this trap from the beginning. I would salvage what I could.

”If I come with you, it will not be as a prisoner.” I spoke firmly, “And you will let me help the Fool.”

Henja smiled, “We have a bargain.”

I stepped forward and knelt to gather the Fool into my arms. Before doing so I removed my jerkin and folded it, pressing it against her wound as I lifted her. She gasped in pain as I did so. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, but her eyes were open. She shut them rather than look at me and said nothing at all, but the betrayal I read in her eyes before they were hidden from me was more painful than rebuke would have been. I hardened my will. The Piebalds would either be brought into control or killed, Dutiful would be returned to the keep unharmed, the alliance between the Six Duchies and the Outislands would continue.

The Fool would live.

I told myself these things as I held her scarce weight and hoped that I did not lie. Henja watched me as I stood and then waved to Marsh and Dervin. They lowered their weapons and came to flank Henja, their boots crunching fallen twigs and snow carelessly now that they had no need for stealth. She walked ahead of them and motioned for me to follow. I walked numbly where Henja led me with Marsh and Dervin at my back. The Pale Woman had people in the keep. I had to warn Chade, or at least Dutiful, and I would try as soon as I tended to the Fool. I could feel her blood soaking through the jerkin.

The moon was hidden by a passing cloud and I walked on in darkness, the Fool a limp weight in my arms and the Pale Woman guiding me.


	23. Orders

When we had returned to the Piebald’s camp, Henja leading the way, I spared only glances for the other five Piebalds and Fin’s badly scratched face. My immediate concern was for the Fool, gone still in my arms. The walk to me had been only a series of shadows and the cold and the warmth of the Fool’s blood. I commandeered the closest tent and left Henja to explain to Sharptooth and the others why their prisoner was walking free and making use of their things. I lay the Fool down on someone’s pallet, belly down. It was no more than a blanket spread over a pile of twigs, but it was better than the cold ground. A lantern was lit, for which I was grateful. For a time I blocked out the voices outside of the tent and my own racing thoughts as I put pressure over the Fool’s wound. With one hand I felt the blood point at her throat. Her pulse was not strong and it was fast, but that was to be expected.

Just as I’d begun to debate whether I would take the trouble of removing the Fool’s shirt or simply cut it free, Jay stumbled into the tent looking as sullen and angry as ever.

”Get out.” I ordered him in a voice that Burrich had used with me when I’d been a lad and he’d wanted no objection to his command. Unfortunately, either I did not have the knack that Burrich had for making young boys listen, or Jay was simply too willful. He stood where he was, his glare barely disguising his curiosity.

”That’s Hardy’s bed.” He pointed out.

”I don’t care. Now leave.” The Fool’s blood had soaked my wadded jerkin. I needed to assess the damage.

Jay stayed where he was, and I resisted the urge to throw something at him. I narrowed my eyes and he explained, grudgingly, casting his gaze aside, “ ‘m not here cause I want to be. I’m supposed to see if you need anything.”

That gave me pause. “Water, hot and cold. Bandaging if you have it. A rag. Dried bloodwort. Leave it outside the tent.” I gave my list without niceties. I think the boy resented my orders, but he ground his teeth and left. I was glad. The Fool would want privacy, but if Jay had stayed any longer I would have removed her shirt regardless. Better she be embarrassed than dead. I had no idea what I would do if a major blood vessel had been severed or her lungs damaged. Could I use the Skill to attempt a healing such as the coterie had given me? That healing had nearly killed me, but there was so much blood. Her breathing changed, becoming more shallow as I gently pulled my sodden jerkin away, letting me know that she’d regained consciousness. When I took out one of my hidden blades and began cutting the fabric of her shirt she tensed suddenly and tried to pull away from me by getting her arms under herself and turning, but the motion pulled at her injury and she collapsed back down with a moan. On her belly, any new blood would be likely to stay within her body. Still some pooled from the wound and added to the scarlet marring her white and black ensemble. My fear for her manifested itself as anger that she would be stupid enough to struggle.

”It’s just me, Fool. Stay still.” I warned harshly as I resumed my work. She tried once more to pull away from me, but a firm hand on her shoulder halted her.

”Stop.” She entreated. Her eyes were open but she could not see me without turning. 

”I need to bind this wound of yours and make the bleeding stop.”

For a moment I feared that she would try to fight me again, but she just shut her eyes again in resignation. Then she spoke, “Very well, Fitz.”

Her words gave me permission, and relieved me of the guilt of not respecting her privacy. I was grateful for that, but knew that I would have continued anyway. I raised my knife once more.

”Take it off.” The Fool requested. It was a compromise. She was weak with blood loss and pain, and I had to help her upright and support her as I removed the layers of her clothing. Her face was pale and her teeth clenched. As the last of her upper garments came away, revealing the tight binding about her chest, I realized that I had still been thinking of her as a man. I would need to remove the strips of cloth to clean the wound properly, but still I hesitated.

Then my eyes were drawn to the dark markings that reached above the cloth. They were not blood. Bruises? But the shapes were too perfect. I pushed her hair over her shoulder and I let my gaze travel down her back. There were more shapes hidden beneath the blood below her wrapping, and a part of me knew what I saw even as I could not understand how it could be possible. I unwrapped the cloth, being as careful as I could of the arrow wound, reminders of the Fool’s gender forgotten as the full pattern was revealed.

Dragons, wings spread wide, and wicked looking serpents tangled and cavorted across the Fool’s back, covering every inch of skin. If the tattoos were not identical to Narcheska Elliania’s, then they were a close match. The twining creatures disappeared below the waistband of her leggings. I stared for a moment, shocked. The colours shone metallically in the light from the candle, looking even more vibrant where the Fool’s blood ran.

That broke me out of my momentary trance. I took a breath. The blood soaked dragons and serpents stared back at me and I shook my head. The arrow had struck the Fool high. She was lucky it had not pierced her heart. I refused to think about how close it was. A noise outside of the tent alerted me that Jay had finished gathering the supplies.

”I’m getting up now to get water and bandages.” I informed the Fool as I carefully eased and then removed my support of her. She swayed, but used one arm to cover her chest rather than steady herself. I felt like a boor for noticing that her breasts were small in such a situation, but I did. 

”’s cold.” I heard her slur as I brought in two pots of water. The bandages, rags, and herbs were in a small bundle that I collected separately. The heated water steamed in the chill air. 

It was cold. I hastened to kneel by her side again and helped her lay down. I pressed one of the rags to the wound and then added another as the first darkened. It was a ragged hole, torn by the Pale Woman’s rough removal of the arrow. It had pierced one of the dragon’s wings. My mind strained to find some connection between the Fool and the Narcheska that would lead to them having similar tattoos. A religious practice perhaps? The Fool did not seem to follow any religion save the White Prophet’s, if it could be called a religion, and the Narcheska’s had seemed to cause her great pain. There were layers upon layers of mysteries surrounding me. I fumbled to try to merge all of the pieces I’d been given into a cohesive story, but the puzzle just would not fit together. So many questions, but now was not the time to ask. The Fool lay still under my hands, save for her shallow breaths, and accepted the pain my treatment was adding. I was surprised when she spoke.

”Have you… no questions, Fitz?”

”Too many.” I answered truthfully, “But you should rest.”

Her next words were frightening to me, “Rest. What point, rest. If the arrow’s point had been true… more merciful.”

”Don’t say things like that. I know that it hurts, but you’ll be fine.”

A small exhalation that was meant to be bitter laughter, “So kind. I cannot blame you. My own fault.”

If she was determined to talk, then I would not hold back. I had a multitude of questions to ask, but I asked the one that confused me the most, “What are these tattoos, Fool?”

”They are her mark. Since I was a child. The Narcheska is hers too. They held me down…”

I kept weight on the rags I pressed to the Fool’s back and tried not to imagine hands holding the child Fool down as the ink was meticulously applied. “Who did?”

”The Servants.”

”Your servants did this to you?” I was confused. I had not imagined the Fool as having come from a wealthy family, nor could I see why servants would tattoo a child.

The Fool’s breath hitched and she shut her eyes for a moment. I carefully eased the pressure on her back and removed the rags. When no more blood rose, I took up a clean rag. It may have once been part of a shirt. The cold water was too cold, so I added some of the hot before gently wiping the blood from her skin. The colours of the dragons and serpents were even more vibrant in the clean path my rag left and they were a stark contrast to the paleness of the rare patches of unblemished skin. Her hair was only partially restrained and it shone like spun gold in the lantern light. My heart clenched when I saw tear tracks glistening on her cheek.

I wiped them away, “It’s alright, Fool. You’re safe.”

”I couldn’t stop you.” I had to strain to hear her words.

”Everything is going to be fine.” I wish that I believed it. 

She said nothing more after that. I had more questions than ever, and the Fool’s answers had only added more. I only gained the luxury of time to think on all I’d learned days later. The remainder of that night had been a sleepless one for me, and I gave no thought to the Piebalds I’d kept from their beds. I had placed a compress of bloodwort over the Fool’s wound and bound it tightly. I’d had to maneuver the Fool upright again to do so and it was a difficult task to do a proper job while keeping her sitting. Her head lolled and her arms dangled uselessly. I was worried about the way she seemed to fight for breath.

I resolved to watch her carefully. Once I’d bound her wound as best as I was able, I lay the Fool down again, took a seat near the entrance of the tent and dropped my Skill walls. I felt the magic rush around me. I was a stone in the river of Skill. Feeling that magic rush around me suffused me with a feeling of euphoria, but I knew that surrendering to that flow and letting myself unravel in it would be so much better. I seldom lowered my defences to such an extent, but my need was great.

 _CHADE._ I Skilled with all of my being, reaching forth into a space that could be described by neither distance nor time. My awareness of my surroundings faded to be replaced by the myriad of consciousnesses in the current. I could hear the careless thoughts of anyone still awake at this hour and the dreams of those whose minds spilled from their slumber. Each of them grasped at my mind like a child’s hands, trying to pull me into them and unravel me. I pushed through all of those innumerable minds, seeking for my mentor. My hope was small, but my determination was great. I discarded all of the walls I’d habitually kept in place to keep me safe.

_Fitz?_

The thought was small and barely perceptible amid the tumult of other thoughts, but I seized it strongly. I know not how to describe what I did, but I felt as though I grasped the flow of the Skill around me and shaped it around that thin thought, forcing it into the shape of the old man I knew. The shape of him wavered for a moment, and I knew that I could not possibly create a perfect model. What I created was my image of Chade, the man who had been my mentor and teacher when I’d been a child, the man who broke from the shadows during Regal’s reign to bolster the people’s hopes that King Verity would return, the man with insatiable curiosity and ambition. I poured all that I knew of him into that image, but I knew that I only scratched the surface. Nevertheless, I felt him settle into the form I’d made for him like a man settling into his bed for the night or a new pair of boots. I could feel a connection between us, not unlike the bond I had with the Fool. Had it always been there or had I created it? I explored it carefully and recognized what it was. Verity and I had linked in this way before. Experimentally I fed strength to Chade and felt the clarity of his thoughts increase as I did so.

_Fitz? This Skill. I have never felt anything like it! _He marvelled.__

_No time for that now, Chade. Focus._ I pushed my thoughts to him. Our joining of minds did not come easily, despite our bond. It seemed that I propelled them through some sort of fog. _You are in danger. Thick has been used as a spy for the Piebalds and apparently other servants are theirs as well._ My mind raced as I tried to come up with likely suspects from my earlier investigations. It came to me abruptly. _Bramble. Lord Golden’s serving boy. Check him. Check all of the kitchen staff._

I sensed Chade’s focus shift from his fascination with this new level of Skilling to the news I’d given him. _A spy?_ He was incredulous, shocked, and finally angry that he could have been so blind to such a weakness.

 _Don’t be hard on him._ I urged, _He doesn’t understand what he did._ This I was certain of. _Be cautious. A threat has been made that these spies could be used to poison the witted delegates, the nobles, or yourself._

Outrage. _Not in Buckkeep castle they won’t. Fitz, how came you by this information? Are you alright?_

 _I’m fine._ I assured him, though I could feel my strength rapidly fading. I tried to impart as much information as I could. _The Fool is with me and is hurt. I’m tending him. We have been heading south west. Dutiful can give you more details when he returns. Not all of the Piebalds are willing participants in this. At least some of them have been forced, their wit beasts held hostage. I’m going to try to reason with their leader. I want to see if we can end this without bloodshed._

_That is an admirable thought, Fitz,” said Chade, “But these rebels are guilty of treason. Have you forgotten how they tried to take the Prince? More than once, I might add. And now you say they are threatening to kill people within the keep. I am not saying that you must kill those who are clearly members against their will, but you must not let your mercy blind you. Many of them will have participated in the murder of Six Duchies folk._

I frowned. _Many Six Duchies folk were involved in the murder of Old Blood, simply because they were witted._

Chade dismissed my concerns, _I am not talking about that, though you would do well to remember that they are not completely innocent. What of those who pressed fellow Old Blood into service with threats of violence? Or those who turned a blind eye to the murder of entire families? To the plot against the throne? No, Fitz. This thing cannot be solved without bloodshed, much as we would wish it. Are you prepared to undertake that task?_

It stung slightly that Chade questioned my capability, but I knew that his concern was not meant as an insult to me. _I am._ I answered simply.

I sensed Chade thinking. Could almost see him pressing his steepled fingers to his lips. _Very well, Fitz. This is my advice to you. Kill them. Kill as many as you can. Especially those with power because right now you are at a disadvantage. Those you feel are completely innocent you may spare, but we will not let any escape. I will send my men after you as we agreed and we will take what prisoners we can back to Buckkeep castle. They will live but we will get what knowledge we can from them. They can give us information on the rest._ He paused. _Be ruthless, Fitz. I know that you would prefer a more merciful course, but it not possible in this situation. Diplomacy would have been preferable at the start, but it has gone too far for that. Too much blood has been shed. Will we wait until they kill another hundred men before we take action? If the Fool is injured, as you say, what will you do if they use him against you? It is too late for talks. Kill as many of them as surreptitiously as you can. Bide your time as necessary. You know my methods. Do not confront them directly._

Such ruthless advice. As expected of a seasoned assassin. _What of your negotiations? What of other Piebalds that may rise up against the Farseers in vengeance for these deaths?_

_That is always a risk. However, if, as you say, some of the party are unwilling participants in the Piebald’s plot, we will take those as prisoners and we will help them regain their partners as well. They will be made to testify against those who are guilty of treason and of violent action against their own kind. We will have the Old Blood delegates be witness and they will be judged by their own kinsmen, so that it cannot be said that the Farseers acted out of malice toward the witted. In this case, justice must not only be done, but appear be done. I feel that the Old Blood desire justice against the Piebalds as much as we do, and this could in fact help smooth our negotiations._

The old man’s advice was sound. Still, I found it hard to stomach the thought of poisoning Jay or slitting Dervin’s throat in the night. Melody and Sly, I knew I would spare. Perhaps I could convince them all to come back to Buckkeep with me? I doubted it. I felt a wave of vertigo and knew I must end our conversation soon. _Very well, Chade. Please look into the servants and Thick as well. While they have that hold over me I can do nothing._

Chade’s mind was already off, considering all of the possibilities. His heart was filled with determination to defend his territory. _I will. Those spies will be rooted out and dealt with. Do not fear._

I broke our connection. Feeding Chade the strength for Skilling had been taxing, and my weariness made it all the more difficult to resist the current of Skill that flowed around me. I had always kept some distance between myself and that current, walling myself in from that temptation. Occasionally, back at my cottage I would lower my walls and reach out, feeling for anything, anyone that could reach back to me. Now I had that. As draining as my contact with Chade had been, I felt a tingling in my veins and a giddiness of spirit that I had not felt in years. My messages exchanged with Dutiful paled in comparison to this. I am ashamed to say that I wallowed in that rush of Skill, daring myself to let go. To become one with all of the other lives that whirled and flowed around me.

Then I experienced an impact like a rabbit seized by a wolf or a mouse by a hawk. It took my breath away as my mind was seized by some great and powerful presence. Copper eyes whirled as they stared into my soul, and I recognized the mind that had engulfed mine. It had been lurking outside of my walls ever since my Skill healing, no, ever since that Bingtown Trader, Selden, had called me aside to speak with me. I had seen out of those eyes in my dreams.

 _Tintaglia._ I named the dragon.

She was magnificent. I felt her attention to me sharpen as I thought her name, and I felt awe that such a beautiful and powerful creature could even notice me. Her demand seized me like talons.

_Where is the dragon Icefyre? Tell me!_

_Aslevjal. In the ice._ I answered unthinkingly, dumb in my amazement.

 _Your human names mean nothing to me._ The copper eyes narrowed. _TELL ME._

Then suddenly something happened. It was as though I was wrapped in wool as the dragon’s mind was pushed from mine. Some other presence shielded me and repelled her. Tintaglia roared, furious, and pushed against the wool, tearing and clawing at it in her determination to get to me. She threw it aside like a shredded sheep carcass and lunged for my mind again, but I slammed up my walls, wit and Skill. I felt deaf in the sudden isolation, and I panted as though I’d run a marathon. I expected a Skill headache to take me, but none came. Still, I nearly let myself slump to the ground in exhaustion. I could hardly see, and the tent seemed to spin around me.

That voice. Chade had been skeptical as to the existence of the Bingtown dragon. I would have to assure him that she was real. And she had been interested in Icefyre. Would we be making an even bigger enemy than the Outislands if Dutiful slew the dragon in the ice? It was something to consider. She’d barged into my mind and seized my conscious as though I were meat she was contemplating eating. Had that truly been the mind that I had I had touched during my fever dreams? I remembered well the thrill of the hunt and diving on prey. It felt traitorous to Nighteyes to have hunted with another, even in a dream that I had not sought out. She had felt so large, so magnificent and awe inspiring when she turned her regard directly on me. It was frightening. I checked my Skill walls like a man patting his pockets and then strengthened them again.

I took a few deep breaths and after a few moments my vision cleared and my hearing came back to me. It was quiet outside the tent and dawn was probably not far off. The others were probably all sleeping while they could. How many would be living their last days? Chade was right; the Piebalds were guilty of murder and plotting treason. I knew that I should not hesitate. I had come to this mission expecting to kill, but after what Melody had revealed to me I could not help but wonder if I would be taking lives that might have been spared. Well, I would do what I had been trained to do. I would study them and then decide who would live and who would die. 

I banished the thoughts from my mind, forcefully. For a few hours at least, I would not think of it. Too much had happened today. I longed to be able to shut my eyes and sleep. Instead I moved the small distance to the Fool’s side. I did not trust myself to stand and so I crawled and knelt beside her. The lantern still cast it’s warm glow in the shelter, adding emphasis to the fine bones and angles of the Fool’s face with light and shadow. She had not weighed much while I carried her and I could see her thinness plainly without Lord Golden’s elaborate garb and frills of lace, though she was still lightly muscled. Part of the disguise or natural, I wondered. It would not have been easy to dress as a man otherwise. The dragons on her back, hidden though they were, sent a shiver down my own spine as they called my Skill encounter with Tintaglia to my mind. I frowned when I noticed that the Fool’s breathing had not improved, but worsened.

I am ashamed to say that my lack of hesitation in doing what I did was due more to the allure of the Skill than concern, though concerned I was. My earlier, uninhibited immersion in the Skill had woken a hunger in me, an eagerness to feel the sense of completeness that came with using the Skill. Still, I have never regretted that I succumbed to that temptation. I reached out and took the Fool’s left hand in mine, ungloved it, and pressed her fingers to their marks on my wrist. She did not stir. Then, with the Skill, I felt for that golden thread that connected us and followed it, increasing my awareness of her body. I told myself that I would only observe. That I would not inflict a Skill healing on my friend after such a healing had nearly destroyed me. Just knowing what was wrong would help me to help her.

I saw what was wrong. The arrow had embedded itself deep. That and the harsh removal of the arrow had torn tissue, sliced blood vessels and pierced one lung. An accumulation of blood and air within her chest were compressing her lungs. Then, knowing what was wrong, how could I not at least attempt to set it aright?

It is a heady feeling, knowing that at your will, another’s body will obey you. I had to restrain myself from spending resources that the Fool could not afford. It was a hard thing to do. I extended my Skill to direct her body’s efforts towards mending the damage, but in doing so I realized another thing. I had extended myself beyond my own resources. Utter exhaustion claimed me like the sucking muck in the Rain Wilds claims an unwary animal. The more I tried to continue in my efforts, the more my strength deserted me. It was my body defending me from myself, telling me that I’d done too much. I forced myself on despite its warnings.

And then I woke up and it was morning. I was confused at first, as I came to awareness. Light filtered in through the fabric of the tent and there were sounds outside as the Piebalds began their day. There were voices, too. I could hear Fin’s shouts as he recounted what had happened to his face.

”…right out of nowhere! I swear it! Damn thing was as big as a hound! It leaped for me quick as lightning and nearly took out my eye!” 

Hardy scoffed, “Weren’t nothing but a house cat, idiot.”

Fin was undaunted, “You don’t think it was the Bastard’s, do ya? I tell you that thing tried to kill me while he got away! Could’a scratched my face clean off. ”

”Shut up, Fin. Everybody knows he was bonded to a wolf. Besides, you’re an ugly bastard, a few scars won’t change that. It probably just didn’t like the look of you.” Jay was in a foul mood, it seemed.

”It’s an improvement, if anything.” I heard Hardy mutter, “Least you had a blanket to sleep on last night. Don’t see why we couldn’t have just tied him up again.”

Sharptooth snapped, “Shut up all of you and get to work.”

I lay there for several minutes, listening and watching the shadows move on the wall of the tent, before I realized that their packing up would mean that the tent must come down too. I pushed myself up. My arms felt like jelly and my head ached. I’d fallen next to the Fool and was glad that I hadn’t injured her. She was still sleeping, but I think that her breaths were deeper and her skin had a healthier colour. Cautiously, I touched her shoulder.

”Fool. Wake up.”

Her eyes opened to golden slits. Then she gasped and turned, rising to a sitting position with the blanket from the bedding pulled up over her chest with one hand, the other supporting her. Pain narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brow, but I was glad to see her improved.

”You need to get dressed. They’re getting ready to move.”

The Fool looked at me for a moment and I could not tell what passed through her mind. Then she nodded tightly and looked to her left and right. I picked up her shirt and jacket and handed them to her. They were stiff with dried blood, but she took them without complaint and then waited.

”Are you alright? How do you feel?” I asked. 

She nodded again and I surmised that it would have cost her too much effort to speak. Another moment passed and I realized that she was waiting for me to leave.

I did, squinting as I emerged into the morning light. The horses were being saddled by Jay and packs were being secured. Their camp was nearly disassembled. As the Piebalds noticed me emerge I was met with stares of varying degrees of hostility. Fin scowled, Hardy was disinterested, Melody and Sly glanced my way uncertainly, Jay glared, Sharptooth wore his ever present glower, and Marsh and Dervin were stoic. Henja was the only one who smiled. I do not know how she could. Perhaps she felt safe in the knowledge that her threat would keep my claws sheathed. It did, for the time being, and that fact sat uncomfortably in my mind. She had hurt my friend, badly. She had also threatened the folk involved in the convocation of the witted and Chade as well. She threatened my pack.

I ignored her and hardened my heart. I fixed my gaze on Hardy and strode to him, the grass and remaining snow crunching under my boots. I stopped a few feet from him and nodded, “Thank you for the use of your bedding last night.” I said, making no attempt to prevent the others from listening.

Hardy did not respond for a moment, frowning, then he sneered, “Yeah, ain’t like I had a choice, did I? Think just cause you’re a Farseer you can just take whatever suits you. If I had my way, you’d have spent the night in the snow, so don’t go thanking me for nothing.”

I did not let him phase me, and I responded neutrally, “I don’t think that my blood entitles me to anything. I do think that your hospitality helped me to save my friend’s life. I am grateful for that, so thank you.”

”Choke on your ‘thank you’s, traitor.” He growled, then turned away from me.

It could have been worse. Henja was saying something to Sharptooth. Melody and Sly were conversing quietly amongst themselves. I found the horse I’d been riding and approached her slowly, questing out with the wit that I meant her no harm. When she didn’t try to move away from me, I reached up a hand to scratch behind her ears. They flattened and she sunk her teeth into my forearm before backing up, tail flicking. I scowled and rubbed my arm. She hadn’t bitten as hard as she could have, but it would still add another bruise to my collection.

Jay rolled his eyes at me, “Horses are prey. Of course she doesn’t like you.”

”I’ve never had any problem with that before. I was a stable boy once.”

I felt a presence behind me and turned before Sharptooth could put a hand on me. He glowered. “Didn’t you cause enough trouble last night?”

”No trouble. I was just seeing to my horse.”

He took a step closer, “Well it looks like Jay’s doing his job just fine. I suggest that you pack up that tent you used.”

Challenging their leader wouldn’t ingratiate me with any of them. I nodded and turned back toward the tent. I could feel Henja’s eyes on me, but she was not the only one watching me curiously. It was a novelty for the Piebalds to see me without my limbs bound. I pulled open the tent flap and ducked inside. I still ached from my beating the day before and my nights sleeping on the frozen ground, but I would survive.

The Fool was dressed, but laying down on her belly again. I approached her side and knelt down to wake her. It gave me a fright to see her eyes staring at nothing and I shook her shoulder without giving a thought to her injury. I felt guilty yet relieved when she flinched away from me.

The tent was packed swiftly. I returned Hardy’s possessions to him, which he received ungraciously. The other possessions in the tent had been Fin’s and Sly’s which I was not surprised by. The Fool seemed dazed. Whether it was because of blood loss or my attempted Skill healing, I did not know. I worried that riding on horseback would pain her, but she did not complain. I rode double with her seated in front of me so that I could catch her if she began to fall. Other than my lack of restraints, the day proceeded much like any other. The Piebalds seemed to have come to the consensus that it was great good fortune that the other man they’d sought to capture had walked right into their hands. Henja regarded us with a satisfied air.

The most life I saw in the Fool was when Henja spoke as she rode up along side us. She smirked, “Search all you like, Beloved. You will find that this round is mine.”

The Fool replied with a dream-like quality to her voice. I wondered what her voice sounded like when she was not pretending to be a man and realized that I had never heard it. I doubted her Amber voice had been hers. “Not yet. You’ve always been short sighted.”

Henja sneered and rode on. I felt like more occurred than I observed, but could not divine what.

 


	24. A Change in Plans

The following day found me no closer to an answer. Now knowing how, I Skilled to Chade once that day while we rode. It was difficult to keep my attention in both places at once, but I managed. Thick was being confined in a comfortable room with enough treats to keep him from protesting. When questioned carefully, he’d revealed the conversations he’d had with first Laudwine and then Henja. He gave them details about many insignificant things, such as how to stack the firewood in Chade’s hearth, but he also revealed my identity to the Piebalds, as well as Chade’s hidden lair and what little he knew about the Fool. He also revealed the reason for his dislike of me. The Piebalds had made him fear me, telling him that I would gut him if I were displeased with him. It made me sick to know that all this had happened beneath our noses. It put me unpleasantly in mind of little Rosemary, dosing by Kettricken’s feet. No news had been found regarding the other spies, but Chade was working on it. As for my situation, Chade had me relay as much information on our journey as I could to him, and he passed this information on to his men who would ride out discreetly. 

I did not Skill to Chade long. It was taxing to feed the Old Man strength as well as use my own Skill. Still, I did not fall from the saddle or ride into a tree. The Fool spoke little on the ride, and said nothing when we settled for sleep, back to back under the stars, for the Piebalds had reclaimed their tent. I had tried to start conversation several times, but she either ignored me or shrugged. The day before I had attributed to weariness or pain, but today I wondered if I was being ignored. The watch was doubled, with two Piebalds guarding us for twice the usual duration and with twice as much grumbling. I could not blame them, but I did feel uneasy and I slept lightly. Only when I had been on the edge of sleep did I realize that I had not informed Dutiful of the threat at Buckkeep castle. Well, the morning would be soon enough. Chade was no doubt investigating with his full strength and Dutiful would do naught but worry if I woke him with such grim news as spies and murderers within the castle walls.

I awoke once that night while the moon was still high and sending its light dancing on the lingering snow. More and more, that snow was giving way to grass that was frosted over by night and occasionally thawed by day. The Fool and I had been given a blanket each as a pitiful defence against the cold that creeped out from the frozen ground, and rather than freeze individually, we came to the silent agreement that we would use one as protection from the snow and one to cover the two of us. Truthfully, I think that the Fool benefitted more than I did, but as cold as her flesh was, the night was still colder and we were chilly rather than frozen. The Fool had refused tea from Henja, but did not stop me from taking mine. I was grateful for what warmth it had given me, however brief. I knew better than to trust Henja now, though. It is a common tactic among those men that take prisoners to deprive a man of the comforts of life and their dignity, and then restore them slowly. A prisoner will be pathetically grateful for wash water or a blanket, if he has been left in his own filth in the cold for long enough. What would be taken for granted normally becomes a treasure, and the gratitude of the prisoner can win the captor information that he would not have won by interrogation alone with much less effort. I wondered now if Henja’s kindnesses had been genuine or if they had been engineered to bind me to her with gratitude. Was I being too paranoid thanks to my childhood training? Safer to be paranoid, I decided. I accepted the tea and blankets but did not allow myself to see the gifts as a favour. When I awoke, it was because the Fool had sat up and the cold was momentarily allowed to find my flesh. I did not stir and kept my breathing even as I listened.

For a time I lay there in silence and when nothing was said, I turned over and looked at the Fool, curious. She was watching Henja who kept her watch with Sharptooth. The small firelight made my friend’s face look like a ghost’s. She did not turn her attention to look at me, but stayed focused on the duo by the fire. Henja was pouring more tea for Sharptooth and herself. It steamed in the cool air and I was jealous as he wrapped a hand around the cup that was dwarfed in his grip. It was made from metal, durable but had clearly seen use much like the rest of the group’s supplies. I wondered how far they had travelled and how far we had yet to go. Henja took a seat on a rock and did not seem bothered by the cold. I believed that Henja was merely the puppet that the Pale Woman controlled. Was she, as an Outislander, less susceptible to cold, or did the Pale Woman ignore her vessel’s need? Was Henja herself still living, still seeing from her own eyes? A chill swept through me as I contemplated this new cruelty. Once, I had looked through the eyes of old King Shrewd while I dreamed and I had spoken with his lips. Was the magic something similar? A desire to put the matter from my mind floated gently into my thoughts and they were gone. Henja was speaking to Sharptooth quietly. I could not make out the words. If the Fool could understand what passed between the two I did not know, but her eyes were fixed on them with great focus. The firelight was reflected in her amber irises, but somehow her gaze still seemed colder than I’d ever seen it.

I was tired. Skilling the night before and riding all day had wearied me. I was soon asleep again. I woke again only to notice when the Fool had laid down. She pressed her brow between my shoulder blades and we slept.

That morning the Fool said as little to me as the night before, but Lord Golden was very talkative. “Badgerlock!” He scolded me that morning when I had scarcely been awake for a minute. “What a fool you’ve made me look. I’d come back to the keep to find my servant missing, taken prisoner the nobility are saying, so of course I set out after you. I planned a daring rescue such as would be the talk of the whole Six Duchies for a generation and what do I find? You’ve been among friends the whole time. You utter oaf. Why did you not tell me before I’d made such an ass of myself?” Then he turned to Marsh and looked down his nose at the archer, “Or perhaps before I’d been shot? I understand, of course, why a man would shoot a perceived intruder, but I dare say it’s a good job you weren’t a better shot. No offence intended, naturally.” Here he grimaced dramatically and rubbed his shoulder, “Were I not wearing such a fine coat I’m sure you would have finished me. Nothing can beat Jamailian workmanship, you see?”

I knew how close the Fool had come to dying and I was bewildered as to why the Fool would persist in donning her Lord Golden persona so far from court. I would not question it though. I took a moment to decide what my reply should be, but before I could make one, Lord Golden had carried on as though I did not exist at all. 

”That is an excellent bow you have, of course. I confess I am a bit of a hunter myself, though I can see that you are after larger game than I usually interest myself with. Tell me, do you ever hunt birds?”

And so on. That day, Lord Golden took trouble to converse with every member of the group save for Henja and Sharptooth. I do not think that the Piebalds knew what to make of it, and neither did I. Nevertheless, he won conversation with them far more easily than I had in my time as the Piebald’s prisoner. Upon discovering that Dervin had carved his own pipes the two struck up quite the conversation about various qualities of wood and techniques. Dervin’s father had apparently been a woodworker before he was killed in Regal’s King’s Circle. Marsh was from Buck and had never travelled outside of the duchy. He’d lived in a small coastal town until he’d been forced to go into hiding as the hostility toward anyone suspected of having the Wit increased. He still kept in contact with his family and his friend Gillam, but rarely. Lord Golden listened sympathetically and then artfully guided the topic toward the quality of messenger birds in Jamailia before his interest in the Piebald’s life could raise suspicion.

Jay was curious about Lord Golden, but hid it behind his scowls and made a point to ride with Fin and Hardy rather than with his mother. They rode toward the back of the group and, as Lord Golden and I rode in the middle, were out of reach for easy conversation. Lord Golden inserted himself into their group during lunch with an easy, “Pardon me, but I could not help overhearing your talk earlier about a particular breed of hunting dog. Would you kindly describe it for me? Jamailia is sadly lacking in the good breeding of such animals, and I have a keen interest in hearing more about them.” From this conversation I learned that Jay had bonded with such a dog against the advice of his mother, and that the dog was staying behind near a settlement called Steeprock where he would be more comfortable than if he’d come on the journey to Buckkeep.

All this by midday. I was amazed and a bit horrified at how easily the Fool was able to, if not charm, then at least interest his new company. Being an assassin had always seemed a solitary occupation to me, and I had never considered how useful another person could be in that work beyond appreciating Chade’s network of spies. I could not complain about the information that the Fool won, nor could I deny that the openings Lord Golden created for me to enter into a conversation were useful, but I did find it necessary to remind myself that these were murderers and traitors. Lord Golden expressed such an interest in their interests that I could not help but see them as more than just their crimes. It was something I had been taught to deal with though, years ago by firelight in the wee hours of the morning at Chade’s feet. The information was just information, to be sorted and sifted through for the gems of knowledge buried in the mounds of cheap stones. Facts could be dealt with impersonally.

Henja watched the morning’s proceedings with narrowed eyes and the Fool avoided her in a way that was noticeable only to me. Some game was being played and the Fool was making his move. Given Henja’s last use of force to get me to do her will, I knew worry for what her next attack would be. 

Sharptooth seemed unusually insistent on making progress that day. He prowled around, making the horses nervous as they grazed on the bared grass. Our food was little better, but not even Lord Golden complained.

”We have to get moving.” Sharptooth growled on his fourth circle of our small party. We had finished eating our meagre rations, but were giving the horses a chance to rest and graze. “Jay.” He barked, “Go find out what’s taking your family so long.”

The boy grumbled but set off into the trees. Lord Golden came to stand next to me.

”How are you feeling?” I asked, quietly.

The Fool was still ignoring me, it seemed, but at least I got a response. Lord Golden replied with raised brows, ”Better than I would have expected, thank you Badgerlock.”

We were standing a bit apart from the others. Hardy was entertaining them with a tale of a woman he’d met in a tavern one evening. It was quite a graphic tale, but I’d heard worse from the guardsmen back at the keep. I spoke while there was a swell of laughter. “You’re welcome. What are you planning?”

A sideways look, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve just been getting to know my new acquaintances.”

I waited for another bout of raucous from the Piebalds before speaking again, “I was in contact with Chade. He says to kill them with the exception of a couple of hostages.”

”Mm. Did he now?”

”Yes, he did. I appreciate you trying to get more information, I just don’t want you to be… surprised.”

”I am seldom surprised. Funnily enough, I think that you’re one of the few people who can surprise me.”

It was Lord Golden speaking the Fool’s words and so I did not know how to take them. I set the comment aside, “Chade is sending men after us.”

Then the Fool spoke her first words to me in three days. ”I think that you should be careful, Fitz.” Amber eyes fixed on me, “Keep the tools of your trade safely hidden for now. In my dreams, the bodies are buried by the snow, but they rise again a thousand fold, all made of last autumn’s leaves to wreak their revenge on you. But they are brittle and decaying and so they fall back to the earth as well.”

I frowned, “Dead men cannot rise again, Fool.”

”It happens in many ways. I know not what it means, but I do know that the last year’s leaves will nourish the life of new growth. Let the old leaves fall but plant new trees to consume the old, so that they cannot rise and haunt the land.”

I shook my head. “You aren’t making any sense.”

I must have angered her again because Lord Golden huffed haughtily, “I don’t know why I bother with you, Badgerlock.” Then he strode off to join the Piebalds, leaving me to my stupidity.

Jay returned, red faced and looking as though he could not decide between anger and disgust. I watched, curiously.

”Well? Found them?” Sharptooth barked.

Fin laughed, “Oh it looks like he found ‘em alright! What’d you see, Jay? Little too much of your mother?”

”You shut up!” Jay rounded on Fin. “What the hell would you know?”

Fin grinned and leaned back, enjoying the opportunity to tease the lad, “Aw we all knew, boy! Think you were the last one to find out. You suppose that makes you your own cousin?”

Jay glared and scooped up a stone from the ground, hurling it at Fin. It flew wide and the Piebalds laughed. “Shut up, I said! He’s not my da! My da is dead!”

Hardy looked at Fin with a smirk, “Think we ought to tell Melody that? Seems to me she’s found him pretty lively.”

”Padget was my da!”

”Oh, sure, kid! Bet he thought so too.”

”Jay!” Melody emerged from the trees and ran to her son. He shrugged her off when she tried to put a hand on his shoulder. Sly was not far behind, but he lingered some distance away.

”Don’t touch me.”

”Jay, please. We have to talk about this.”

Sharptooth’s patience wore thin, “Enough!” He shouted, then proceeded in a quieter voice, “Now we’re all back, let’s get a move on.”

I startled when I felt a hand brush my hair. Henja smiled, “You had a leaf in your hair. You should control your friend, FitzChivalry. His interferences will fail in the end. There’s no sense in allowing him to make his fall more painful for himself.”

”I don’t know what you mean.”

”Have it your way, then.” Henja allowed.

The Fool was watching us with a frown. “Badgerlock.” Lord Golden snapped, “Are you deaf, man? Hurry up.”

I did. While we rode, I contemplated the Fool’s advice. It was confusing. First she’d said she would go with me, when I had proposed my idea for going after the Piebalds, then she tried to get me to run, and now she tried to make friends with them. The inconsistency baffled me.

More than confusion, I was surprised to find annoyance and even anger rising to the surface of my mind. I examined these feelings carefully, cautiously. What I found was not surprising, but the depth of the feelings was. I resented being used. I turned that revelation about myself carefully in my mind. Since childhood, I’d always been someone’s tool. A weapon for the Farseers. Royal enough to be useful, but illegitimate and therefore disposable. A part of me didn’t want to believe that I was anyone’s catalyst and didn’t want my friend to believe it either because I didn’t want to be a tool. As I confronted this aspect of myself, I fought the urge to shake the Fool and tell her that I would not do it any more, to Skill to Chade and tell him that I would make my own decision regarding the Piebalds, to tell Henja that she would need to find another Catalyst.

It frustrated me that I could do neither of those things. My own sense of duty would not allow it. Knowledge of what such a confrontation would do to my friendship with the Fool would not allow it. I simmered with my impotent anger for a time. I think that the Piebalds sensed my mood, because they did not draw near, even to converse with Lord Golden. I held my newfound anger like a child holds a precious toy.

Then I relaxed. I could not sunder my ties with Chade and the Fool. I had done it once and I found that I would not like to do it again. I had missed them in my years of solitude and they were important to me despite their manipulations. To lash out at them in anger would be childish and would serve no purpose in the end. They both thought that they were acting for the greater good and my protests would not change that. I could refuse to allow them to control me, though. They would learn eventually that it was pointless to try. Their opinions would be considered but I would not allow myself to be reduced to a playing piece.

As the sun westered I was surprised when I felt a mind touch mine with surprising force. I twitched and the Fool shifted to look at me questioningly, but I shook my head. It was Dutiful.

_Tom, there’s something wrong._ He informed me, tension high in his Skilled thought.

I was instantly alert as my mind leapt from one imagined scenario to the next, each somehow worse than the last. _What’s happening?_ I asked, trying to keep my panic from being sent along with my thoughts.

Dutiful’s own nervousness came through clearly, doing nothing to ease my fears. _I don’t know exactly what yet, but only two of the Old Blood have come back. There’s been a problem at the keep, I think. They’re accompanied by the Queen’s Guard and they’re talking with Fleria._

I burned with curiosity and with worry. Kettricken would never jeopardize her son’s life, and it had been her belief that giving the Prince to the Old Blood would keep the nobles from acting out against the witted. What could have happened to cause only two of the witted emissaries to return? What would become of the Prince?

Dutiful’s thoughts seemed to have gone in a similar direction, because his thoughts were tinged with fear. _There’s been an attack. Someone tried to poison the Old Blood… They were barely stopped in time. No one was killed but a few have fallen ill. My mother sent her abject apologies and has promised that the ones responsible will be brought to justice…_

It felt as though my guts had turned to ice, but I strove to remain calm. _Everything will be fine, Dutiful,_ I tried to reassure him, _What else are they saying?_

_I am willing sacrifice in this, FitzChivalry._ Dutiful’s resolve was firm and grim, _It was agreed that I would accept punishment, should my people break the trust placed in them. The guards look uneasy. I think that they would try to fight for me, but the Old Blood are still talking. Some of them think that they should run and go deeper into hiding, but Fleria is insistent. She thinks that they should extend the talks. A moment. I would speak with them._

Dutiful broke our connection then and I waited, impatient with anxiety. He should have given me the chance to Skill-ride with him.

”Badgerlock.” Lord Golden sounded cross and I sensed that the Fool had tried to get my attention more than once.

”Apologies, master. My mind was elsewhere.” I explained, hoping that she would understand.

A disdainful sniff, “I would believe that if I believed you had a mind to begin with. What is the matter with you?”

How to explain what was wrong? “Just thinking of my friends back home. One of the other guardsmen had been ill when I left. I think he ate something bad. He should be fine by now, but I’m worried that it was more serious than that.” 

”Hm.” Lord Golden dismissed. I had no idea if the Fool had understood my message or not.

My immediate thought was that the Pale Woman had reneged on our bargain and did not expect me to know about it. My eyes settled on Henja. She was riding with Sharptooth at the head of our party. If she was behind this treachery then I would see justice done. As I had been schooled to, I considered the other likely possibilities as well. Did some noble seek to take advantage of this opportunity to remove the Farseer heir as well as make a strike against the witted? Who would stand a chance of rising to power if Dutiful were gone. I could think many who were power hungry, but none that were bold enough for this sort of plot. My mind churned. What could I do if Dutiful was threatened? It was some time before Dutiful Skilled to me again. In that time I rode in silence save for the clamour of my own thoughts. He sounded relieved and a bit proud, which eased my worries immediately.

_It’s settled, Tom!_ He declared, _We are all returning to the keep with the guards. I told them that I would honour our bargain, but that we should determine where the blame rightly fell before acting. That’s what concerns me though. Do you think that it was one of our own or the Piebalds that did this?_

_Let’s not speculate yet._ I suggested, knowing that my earlier worries had solved nothing, _I’m glad that you’re alright, and I’m proud of you. You are your father’s son. He would be proud of how you handled yourself today. Can you see Chade once you arrive back and pass on any messages that he has for me? I managed to Skill with him briefly, but I need to feed him strength to do it and I’m not sure how many times I can manage that in one day._

_I will. Does all go well with you?_

_As well as it can._

I was relieved that Dutiful had escaped unscathed, but my mind knew no rest. The threat had to be found and eliminated. Doubtless, Chade would be thinking along the same track and may have already taken action. Was this a random act of prejudice or did it serve some greater purpose? How would this affect our progress towards peace between witted and unwitted? 

Sharptooth pushed us on further than usual that day. When the time came for us to stop for the night, I dismounted and made directly for Henja. I offered no word of explanation to the Fool. She looked as though she would have liked to stop me, but I gave her no opportunity to do so. I would act on my own. When Henja and I were a suitable distance away from the others, I spoke.

”You said that you would not harm anyone at the keep.” I accused.

Henja’s dark brows rose, “Has something happened?”

”Do not pretend ignorance. Your spies attempted to poison the Old Blood.”

She shook her head and held out her hands as though to show that she was unarmed, “I have given no orders. As I’m sure you know, I’ve sent no messages to anyone. I was within your sight all day. I said that I would ensure that no one would die and I kept my word.”

I paused. I had been so sure. If not her, then who had instigated the attack and to what purpose?

While I was thinking, Henja spoke again. “Is it your habit to distrust those who care about you, FitzChivalry?”

”You hurt my friend.”

”An impulsive bit of anger after he insulted me and my vision. But still, it was not I who shot the arrow.” She looked up at me and smiled a small smile, “I will apologize if you like, but it would do no good. He hates me unreasoningly.”

”You also threatened my loved ones. Blackmailed me into staying with you. How could you even think that I would trust you?”

The smile fell, replaced with a look of sadness that surprised me. “I did what had to be done. It pains me to hurt you in any way. You are my Catalyst and hence my most important person. I did not have time to earn your trust and so you would have left if given the chance, as soon as the false prophet came to steal you away. I could not allow that.”

I wanted to object that that did not sound like caring to me, but a voice as gentle as a breeze bade me to accept her words. If I had a purpose I had devoted my life to, would I not use whatever means necessary to achieve it? I found myself nodding, “Very well. But we move off track. You may not have ordered your spies to act, but did they have orders already standing to poison the delegates?”

”They did not. I suppose your caution is to be commended.” Then in a sudden change of topic she asked, “You know that my goal is to prevent the return of dragons and hence allow humanity to flourish and progress, am I right? And you know my reasons for not wishing dragons to be let loose upon the world.”

I frowned, not seeing the relevance, but nodded.

”I will give you a gift.” She smiled, “To prove that I have no intentions of destroying the Farseers, as I’m sure your friend would have you believe, and to demonstrate the influence of a true White Prophet. You wish an end to the Piebald’s violent actions. I will speak with Sharptooth. I will suggest that he listen to you regarding a peaceful negotiation with the Farseer Queen and the beasts held hostage will be freed.”

I was surprised yet again, “You could do that?”

She nodded, “With my influence I can help you achieve whatever your heart desires. And I do so happily, because your happiness is mine. We will live long and peaceful lives together.” She said with certainty.

I had come to the conversation angry and with my anger fled I felt confused and a bit off balance with the new change in events. I had steeled myself for the completion of my mission and now to find that I may not need to kill was an unexpected relief. I could kill a man with efficiency but I had never cared for the task.

”If you could do that, why not do so sooner?” I asked the predominant question in my mind.

”I had planned to use them to bring you to me.” She explained, “I know you better now, though, and you know me as well. This was enough. I have no desire to force you into anything.”

We returned to the area where camp was beginning to take shape. The days were getting longer, but we had only stopped when the fading light signalled the end of our day. Tents were being erected and a fire was being made. Jay was seeing to the horses. The Fool was waiting for me anxiously and strode over to me as soon as Henja detached herself from my company to join Melody in preparing the evening meal. Water for tea was fetched from a stream near by.

”Why did you talk to her?” The Fool demanded quietly. It seemed that my speaking with her enemy was reason enough for her to break her silence with me.

”There was trouble at the keep.” I explained, “ Someone attempted to poison the Old Blood. I thought that her spies might have been involved, but she sent no messages. She told me that she would speak with Sharptooth and convince him to agree to meeting with Kettricken. A peaceful solution.”

The Fool frowned, “But that’s not right. That’s what I was - no. That can’t be. She was going to use their deaths to her advantage somehow, I know it.”

”Well it seems as though you were mistaken this time, Fool.” I said, not unkindly.

She looked discontented still and I sensed that she held herself back from saying more, but I did not push the issue. I longed for the days when our friendship had been simple. Even in our youths the Fool’s talk of prophets and catalysts had coloured our interactions, but somehow it had been easier to accept as just another facet of my friend in those days, just as her lack of colour had been. I had either dismissed such talk or accepted it with equanimity. Somehow it was not so easy for me in adulthood. Perhaps it was because her prophecies and goals had never conflicted with my loyalty to the Farseers before. Perhaps it was because the more I tried to understand her world, the more it became apparent that she would manipulate and use me. Had done so already. That knowledge made me uncomfortable. I decided that I would not argue with her, but would keep my own council.

That night, we all sat together in a circle about the fire. I had seen Henja speaking with Sharptooth while the meal was being prepared and I longed to know what it was she said to him. Whatever it was, the result had been that he’d ordered everyone to convene around the fire. I’d been surprised when he motioned for Lord Golden and I to join them. Jay, I noticed, was sitting as far away from his mother as possible. The circle of firelight surrounded us and the darkness formed walls around the light, giving the illusion of shelter penetrated only by the chill night air.

Sharptooth broke the silence. “We’ve all been carrying out our orders so far, to get the traitor and use him as an example to the Farseers. We were going to fight our own battle. Ensure that we were feared enough and respected enough that we would never worry about being hanged over water again.” There were nods around the fire. “I think that we can still do that. I also think that we could have an ally rather than an example.” His brief speech ended then and he gestured at me, “Well, bastard? You’ve got your chance. Talk.”

Put on the spot, I tried to lay my points out as directly as possible. “When the Piebalds first formed, it was to fight for an end to the unjust persecution of the witted. Am I right?”

Sharptooth inclined his head but Jay spoke up, “We want vengeance for what was done to our kin! Death to the Farseers.”

Melody hushed him. I continued calmly, addressing his outburst with respect and a level gaze, “Vengeance only begets more vengeance. It doesn’t end and it isn’t a solution. If a Piebald is killed and his son kills the man responsible and his son then goes on to kill the Piebald’s son, another will surely rise to kill him too. It has to stop somewhere, and Regal is already dead.” I let my gaze travel over the assembled faces, “You may not realize this, but he did meet his just end. I used the Skill magic on him to make him loyal to the Queen and child that he betrayed, and the wit-beast of a man who was killed in Regal’s reign killed him in his sleep. He can do no more wrongs to you now. By seeking vengeance against Queen Kettricken and Prince Dutiful, your anger is misplaced. You are acting against the very people who are trying to bring an end to the times of persecution. If persecution is ended now there will be no need for vengeance in the future.”

Jay looked grudgingly impressed by my explanation of Regal’s death. He probably would have asked more questions if his pride had not prevented it. Sharptooth spoke instead, “I agree with you. Some will say that people need to fear some punishment for killing Old Blood simply for their magic, though. The Queen’s laws are something, but they’re not fool proof. Make up a false charge, have another man say it was so, and any man can be convicted. Even if they can’t execute you, if you’re known to have the beast magic, they won’t sell to you nor buy your goods, they’ll chase you out of town or vandalize your property in the night. Fear of the Piebalds reprisal can stop some of that where the Queen’s laws won’t.”

“Part of what the last convocation was about was to develop solutions to these things. To make suggestions or simply explain problems like that directly to the Queen and her councillor. I propose that together we go back to Buckkeep. The time for violent action is over now. The Queen will be more than glad to meet with you all to see what changes you’d like to see made. No promises can be made for vengeance, but the Piebalds seem to have information that we do not. If you know of someone who has unjustly murdered Old Blood then you can give that information to the Queen so that justice can be done. Act as informants rather than vigilantes.” I looked round at all of them once more. “And if there are members of the Piebalds who should likewise be dealt with, for crimes against any Six Duchies citizen witted or not, so that no injustice can be said to have been done against the witted for reasons of their magic alone, you may give this information to fellow Old Blood who will act as jurors.” This last had not yet been implemented by the Queen, but I resolved to suggest it to her.

Marsh spoke, “Doesn’t actually solve the problem, does it? We don’t know everything, and a lot of folk would be too scared to ask for justice. Could probably be killed or run out of town just for trying. Justice won’t help ‘em then.”

I thought before speaking, “At first, a fear of punishment could keep the people in check. I think that a more long term solution, though, would be to end the misconceptions about the witted that are so prevalent in society.”

I was surprised when Lord Golden contributed, “I would not say no to an accomplished hunter with Old Blood in my employ. Let the others see the benefits of the magic.”

I continued the thought, “He is wealthy and influential enough that no one would dare to harm his man. The Queen has already offered to hire some of the Old Blood to her staff. Some other families might agree as well. It would be a slow process, but I think that it would be a good start.”

Melody cleared her throat before adding, “There are some in our group that would not be satisfied with that. They are bent on revenge.”

”Unfortunately, those would need to be stopped. They would be judged and their punishments determined by Old Blood.”

Jay snarled, “So what you’re saying is that you’d kill anyone who dared to stand against the Farseers.”

”There is no one left in the Farseer family for vengeance to be taken upon.” I said, firmly, “Both treason and attacking innocent citizens are crimes. As I said, Old Blood would be the ones to decide their punishments. It need not be death.”

Sharptooth cut in, “Old Blood might be accused of being too soft on their own kind.”

”Then we make it a mixed jury. Half and half.” I proposed.

Hardy had a question, “What if we don’t like this plan of yours? What if we prefer to keep on with what we’ve been doin’?”

”It would be a mistake.” I cautioned, “You already know that the Prince is witted. He could be the first witted king in generations, and he would be fair to you. It would be smarter to protect him as your ruler and ensure that he rise to the throne. Far better him than some distant cousin of the line that would happily sanction an open hunt on all Old Blood.”

”He going to admit it then? That he’s got the wit.” Hardy challenged.

I answered carefully, “As I just said, it is in your best interests to protect your ruler, and you know better than any that to admit to having the wit would be dangerous for him. If you keep his rule strong, you can work to improve the public’s opinion of the Old Blood from under his protection. If you force him to reveal himself it would only serve to destroy what progress is being made. You would have no protection then.”

Hardy opened his mouth to speak again but Sharptooth overrode him, “Shut up, Hardy. What he’s saying makes sense.”

Fin opened his mouth instead. The night wore on as I did my best to use whatever diplomatic skills I had inherited from my father. It was not as difficult as I’d feared, and answers to their questions and respectful denials of accusations came easily to me. The Fool looked torn between watching me with wide eyes and looking on Henja with suspicion. Henja watched the proceedings with the smug look of a cat who’d eaten a particularly large rat. I had no idea what she’d said to Sharptooth to bring this meeting about, but I felt as though we’d come a long way to solving the Piebald problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter almost went in a very different direction! Thank you to the wonderful Tiz, yet again, for valuable advice and conversations!


	25. Honesty

_At some point in my adult life, I came to appreciate the uncomplicated, simple logic of a child. I would see children playing or think wistfully of my daughter, Nettle, whose childhood I was missing, and I would envy their innocence while feeling glad that they could enjoy their carefree years. I saw children as pure and unsullied by the world that could be so cruel and unforgiving. I felt anger that my childhood had been taken from me, first by my birth which denied me any true human companions, next by my King who gave my life over to Chade to shape into an assassin, and finally by war that brought me face to face with the ugliest aspects of life._

_What I came to realize later was that children can be just as cruel and unforgiving. In almost all of the minstrel’s tales, good must triumph over evil. The villain will be slain and the audience will rejoice, because it means that justice has been done. They cheer for death, and this is a child’s logic. The hero must live and prosper, and the villain must suffer or die. Rare is the merciful hero, and we accept that. Is not the hero a murderer when he has killed the villain of the piece? Did the villain not have some motivation that drove him to his crimes? It was a boy who killed Justin and Serene in the Great Hall, and a man who spared Regal’s life. Were either of those the right decisions? Such are the considerations of adulthood, and I find that now I welcome that more complicated logic. The logic that recognizes the grey and murky areas of justice._

_All the same, those thoughts are the ones that have made the darkest hours of the night my friends. As an assassin, am I any better than the men that I have killed? My burden of guilt is eased somewhat by the fact that the decision is never my own. As a boy, I was taught that an assassin never kills for himself. To do so would be murder. To kill for my king, however, was an act of justice. What is it, then, when a man kills in the name of a cause? Is it murder or their own colour of justice? Is it the same as a soldier who kills in battle? Who is to say who is right or wrong? My heart and my blood tell me that it is the monarch who decides, but what of times when a ruler is over thrown? Is right or wrong ultimately decided by who won the battle?_

_I would kill for my family and my king. I do not believe that I am above vengeance. Does this make me the hero or the villain?_

—- Crumpled piece of parchment, found unburnt in the hearth.

Buckkeep was not a quiet place in the early days of spring. Almost, I wished that I had taken the Fool’s suggestion and slipped quietly away. As it was, I somehow found myself in the middle of the chaos. Too visible, therefore useless to Chade, and too busy to see much of the Fool. The times that I did make the effort, she avoided me. A part of me, the part that still belonged to the abandoned bastard child, urged me to apologize and to make amends with my closest friend. The larger part of me resisted, however. I would not apologize for making my own decisions nor for having my own opinions. I cannot say that it was the least childish part of me, but it was the most stubborn.

Chade expressed doubts when I Skilled to him explaining the change in plan, but he grudgingly accepted that my attempt at diplomacy had at least appeared to work. Chade’s men had come two days after I had won the Piebalds’ acceptance of my proposal. Or some of them. Of nine, only five stayed with our company all the way to the castle. Fin had left, and so had Jay, that night after the rest of us had gone to sleep. Melody woke for her watch to find both gone. Sly went after Jay with the promise to come to Buckkeep with the lad once he was found. To my surprise, Henja also slipped away, though she remained with us as far as Buckkeep town. Our reduced company turned back toward Buckkeep with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Neither Fin nor Jay had taken their mounts, and so Lord Golden was able to ride on his own, and Dervin led the spare gelding. We kept to the wooded areas still, with Sharptooth in the lead and the rest of us trailing after in ones and twos as the trails allowed. The Piebalds noticed the presence of other humans shortly before we met the guards. I had never come to rely on my wit-sense as much as they had, but I was still not taken by surprise. Marshcroft was among the armed guards who arrived, and I was not surprised that the man was one of Chade’s, given the number of training sessions I had missed and not been rebuked for. The guards had been uncertain how to react, seeing the group of Piebalds riding with me, and had initially been hostile, surrounding us with weapons drawn.

Hardy bristled and cursed, “Damn it. More Farseer trickery! I’ll kill you, you damned bastard!” He pulled a dagger and meant to menace me with it. Sharptooth likewise snarled and drew his sword. The guards began to close in, but I raised a hand and rode forward to intercept those nearest me.

”Peace!” I called, showing my empty hands, “They come willingly!”

Marshcroft was the one to ride forward and meet me. He looked at me, appraisingly, and I met his eyes unflinchingly. Eventually he inclined his head in a nod, warrior to warrior. “Stand down, men.” He ordered, then he addressed me, “Badgerlock, we are to escort you and those with you back to the keep.”

Still on edge, Hardy eyed the men warily, “This has got to be a trap. How would they know we were coming?”

”You know I have the Skill.” I spoke freely in front of Chade’s men, “I informed a contact at the keep that we were coming, and he sent an escort for our protection. They mean no harm.”

”Riding to our deaths…” I heard Hardy mutter, but I suspect that if he did not trust me, he saw the wisdom in not fighting against the well armed guards and so came along.

The guards did not question Lord Golden’s presence. Chade must have warned them before hand. I had not told Chade of the Skill healing that I’d performed, and I think that I recognized one of the men as a battle healer. All of the men at arms were familiar with at least the basic treatments for injuries taken in combat, but some had been trained specifically to be able to both fight and heal the wounded. It touched me that Chade had remembered that detail amidst all of the other emergencies that demanded his attention. 

The ride back was as discreetly done as my journey as prisoner of the Piebalds had been, with only one stop in town as our party’s supplies had already run low again and the guards did not carry enough to sustain so many. Lord Golden produced a handful of coins from cut coppers to gold from a variety of pockets on his person and accompanied the supply group into town. He returned wearing a new outfit that was, if not as fashionable or outlandish as his usual garb, well made and warm. He also brought two more blankets so that he and I did not have to share. So accustomed had I become to sleeping back to back with my friend, I found the change to be odd and the nights to be colder with the new arrangement, but I saw the wisdom of it. There was enough talk at Buckkeep as it was. He also made one other stop in the woods that explained to me were his own supplies had been. When he caught up with our party again, he bore a pack over one shoulder that he promptly tossed to his man to carry. It was surprisingly heavy when I caught it. That night, the Fool came to lay beside me. She spread her blanket next to mine and, sensing my curiosity, she opened the pack and invited me to inspect the contents. Simple tools for cooking, travel rations, a blanket, a small lamp and oil, tea leaves, even a pot of honey. There were some small packets of fabric too, that was softer than silk to my touch. I considered unfolding it but could tell that the fabric was very thin and would likely cover a large area when unfolded, so I left it alone.

”You can’t have caught up with us by travelling on foot.” I observed.

”No.” The Fool agreed, “I sent Malta back the day before I found you. She’s a clever horse and she’ll have found her way home. I knew that the Piebalds would have sensed her coming and possibly been alert for pursuit. I know that you cannot sense me, though, so I hoped that it would be the same for them.” She gave me a twisted smile, “It was probably a useless effort though. _She_ always knows where I am.”

”How can that be?” I asked, puzzled.

”The tattoo. It binds me to her in a way.” She would not meet my eyes.

I resisted the temptation to ask more. This was the first time she’d mentioned her dragon and serpent tattoos since the night she’d been shot. Like Chade, she often offered more information when left to her own devices than she would if I probed for answers, so I nodded, “I see.”

After a moment, I was rewarded. “She marked the Narcheska as hers as well, poor girl. It’s an awful thing to do to a child. Hold her still and hurt her. We had both dreamed of serpents and dragons; I suspect that’s why she chose the design. When Chade first mentioned your observation, I knew that the woman had something planned. The Narcheska’s challenge now makes sense as well. I also know that it bodes ill for me.” She sighed and then looked at me directly. There was something otherworldly in her gaze. “Icefyre must live, Fitz. I will do everything in my power to see it so.”

”But why, Fool? Why go through with any of this? You said that there were no paths left that ended well for you, but why not just leave? Go carve toys in the mountains or make beads in Bingtown. That doesn’t sound like such a bad fate.”

The Fool looked aghast at my suggestion. Then she frowned at me, “You do not know what you are saying. If you will not accept that it is my destiny, then consider the ramifications. If I were to simply toss up my hands and abandon my duty, she would win easily. Icefyre would not be woken. Mankind would continue to subvert nature’s will until the Earth could remember only man. Look around you. Consider the changes in your own lifetime. The forested hills where Prince Verity used to hunt are no more. They will rip the stones and metals from the Earth, end the ancient lives of trees older than their grandfathers…” She cut herself off and sighed, “You know all of my reasoning already, Fitz. Why would you ask me such a thing?”

I stared off into the distance, up at the stars in the sky. “What of Dutiful and his quest? What of the people who would die in a war with the Outislands or defending their livestock and lands from dragons?”

The Fool paused slightly before answering, but it was long enough for me to notice her hesitation. “Some lives will be lost. Lives were lost fighting the Outislanders in the Red Ship Wars, but was not that the right thing to do? To save the world, it is a small cost.”

”It isn’t a small cost to their families and loved ones.”

”Do you think I have no awareness of that, Fitz?” Angered, she narrowed her eyes at me. “Do you think I could be anything but painfully aware of the cost?” She took a breath to say more, but caught herself. She exhaled slowly and shut her eyes for a moment before speaking again, “It is worth it, to have dragons returned to the skies.”

I sat quiet for a time, absorbing her words and her assessment. “Even after that,” I ventured, cautiously, “For humans not to bring the land under their control. Does that mean that they learn to live with nature or that they do not thrive as well as they would have without dragons?”

”Humans will live like every other creature on this world. Would you say that rabbits do not thrive because they are prey?”

”I don’t like the idea of humans being prey.” I frowned. I thought of the vast and powerful mind of the dragon Tintaglia, that had gripped my consciousness. Humans were indeed insects compared to her.

She huffed out a breath through her nose, “You misunderstand me. What I mean is that humans will be forced to recall that they are not entitled to dominion over nature. Man-kind now believes that every bit of the world is man’s to tear down and re-shape. Rather than that, they should remember how to co-exist with all of the other creatures in the world. Dragons can help them to do that. If they don’t realize it, soon it will be too late for everyone.” She paused and then, perhaps sensing my disbelief, shifted the topic slightly and spoke her next words heavily into the night.

“All through our friendship I have used you and kept you alive through all of death’s plots to snatch you away. I am sorry for everything that I’ve put you through. I love you. If I could have spared you all of the pain and heartache, then I would have. There have been times when I have longed to cast off the mantle of White Prophet and live simply, much as you wished to escape your ties to the Farseers. Yet I know that it cannot be so. I am not part of this world or this time. I walk among ghosts that have not yet been born and their shadows stretch all the way to the beginnings of time. Now is just a fleeting instant and yet,” she shifted and I thought that she might have run her sleeve across her eyes, “it is beautiful.”

”What is the meaning of all of this melancholy, Fool?” I asked, concern and a strange fear rising in me.

”I just don’t want it to end.” She explained, her voice melding with the darkness and the starlight, “I cannot take your suggestion, Fitz. How I wish that I could, but I can’t.”

”You are being ridiculous. Of course you can.” I rolled over. For someone whose purpose was supposedly founded on the impact of choices on the future, she was surprisingly fatalistic. It annoyed me. “You can do whatever you want to do. Now I won’t hear any more talk of dragons or prophets tonight. Let’s just focus on getting back to Buckkeep. We’ll deal with Icefyre when we get to that damned island.”

The Fool gave a fond, quiet laugh. “Goodnight, Beloved.”

”Goodnight, Fool.” I answered.

The rest of the ride was uneventful. Winter’s hold on the land was losing its strength as the sun slowly melted the snow and ice and bared the ground beneath. Our horses’ hooves splashed through puddles on some days that froze over by night. Chade’s men numbered eight in total, and our group wore muddy tracks into the earth as we passed. We did not venture onto the main roads at all, but did emerge onto side roads when we were able to and during hours when encountering other travellers was not likely. When we finally emerged from the woods near Buckkeep, Henja drew apart from our group.

”I will be taking my leave, now.” She announced. Her dark hair was one with the falling darkness and she sat her mount with no sign of weariness. Marshcroft looked at me questioningly.

I nodded, “Let her go.” I saw the hesitation on the faces of the Piebalds and addressed them next, “Like Fin, Jay, and Sly, Henja is free to make her own decision. I’ve explained to you why working together will benefit all of us in the end. Even if you do not agree, your voices are more than welcome in these matters. By agreeing to meet with the Queen, you are doing much to further the progress in bettering the lives of all Old Blood. If, however, you have changed your minds, I will not stop you if you choose to abandon that cause and leave.” My eyes met each of theirs in turn.

Sharptooth spoke for them. “It isn’t a battle we can win with swords or arrows, but it’s a battle all the same. We will fight it for our kind.”

After his words, none of the Piebalds made a move to leave our diminished party. I nodded once and we continued on our ways. Henja left, riding in the direction of town. A glance at the Fool showed me that she watched Henja’s departure with a frown.

We were all weary and showing the dirt of our travels by the time we approached the main gates. It was night and I think that Chade’s men had planned it so. The guards on watch challenged us and spoke briefly with Marshcroft before we were admitted into the keep. I Skilled to Chade to let him know that we arrived, knowing well that the old man seldom slept normal hours.

He was indeed awake. I felt his satisfied acceptance of my news. _Good. I’m glad that things are moving smoothly. If those with you are willing as you claimed, then you may dismiss the guards. A couple of lads will meet you in the entrance to guide our guests to their rooms._

All had been quietly arranged in the time it took us to journey there, and the Piebalds were shown to rooms that were already well supplied with firewood, wash water, and even plates of bread and meat. They also had the advantage of spy holes that Chade and I could monitor. Before allowing them to sleep for the night, I spoke to them all as a group.

”Tomorrow you join the talks with the Queen regarding possible solutions for ending persecution of the Old Blood and the violence that has been occurring against both Old Blood and Un-witted citizens. I know that many of you have no love for the Farseers, but Queen Kettricken is fair. You need have no fear or anger toward her. Please think well tonight on what you will say to her.”

My words were met with uncertain nods. Hardy still seemed unconvinced and partially feared a trap. Melody’s thoughts, I was sure, were more with her son than the convocation. Marsh and Dervin seemed to take their cues from Sharptooth who was the most stoic of the group. He nodded once, and I think he conveyed some grudging respect for me in that gesture.

My night was far from over still, and I left them to go give a detailed report to Chade. The Fool walked with me. Our footsteps sounded quiet in the halls of Buckkeep castle, and it felt like it had been a year since I last walked there. It would not be long before the decorations for Springfest graced the walls and ceilings. We silently agreed to take the narrow servant’s stairs and made our way to Lord Golden’s chambers. The keep was quiet at that hour, and we were able to make the journey unnoticed. I sighed once I latched the door behind us.

The Fool’s sigh echoed mine. She was already falling into her cushioned chair. I envied her that she could rest. She smiled wearily and flapped a hand at me, “Go on, Badgerlock. I know you must go scuttle about in the walls as is your habit. I will be here when you return. In the intervening time I think that Lord Golden will be demanding some bath water to wash up after his long and unexpected hunting trip.” She fingered a lock of her flaxen hair and grimaced, “I’m filthy.”

”Waking the servants at this hour won’t win you any hearts.” I cautioned.

The Fool responded by throwing her legs up over one of the arms of the chair and tipping her head back over the other with a hand clutched dramatically to her breast, “Alas! The heart that I covet shares residence with a mind too dense to accept that. But.” She sighed, “Perhaps it is for the best. Away with you, man. I’m sure you’d rather not make the servants aware that you’ve come to my chambers at such an hour. Tongues will wag.”

I dealt with her comment in the same way that I’d dealt with all similar declarations. I ignored it. “Very well, Fool. There’s no need to wait if you’d rather sleep, though. Knowing Chade he will have me tell the tale five times over before he is satisfied.”

”I will keep that in mind, Fitzy.”

And so I departed, entering my servant’s chamber and triggering the secret entrance into the spy corridor. The little room was as much a hole in the wall as I’d left it, though the ornaments and furnishings that Kettricken had supplied during my convalescence still remained. I could feel the woven eyes of King Wisdom and the Elderlings following me as I entered the labyrinth and shut the way behind myself. I sneezed several times as I made the long and winding journey to Chade’s lair and seriously contemplated giving the place a cleaning. Not that I would ever have the time for such an endeavour. Perhaps Thick could be bribed into doing it.

As I stepped into the workroom I was greeted by Gilly, who bounded up to me and posed threateningly, defending his territory. I chuckled, “Yes, hello to you, too. I’m afraid I haven’t got any sausages.”

Gilly menaced me a bit more, then attempted to climb up my leg. I caught him up and deposited him on the bed. He sniffed, indignant that I would so dismiss him, and then proceeded to engage in a lively battle with a pillow.

The room smelled of ferret, tea, and the fragrant wood burning in the hearth with a slightly sulfurous note to the air suggestive of one of Chade’s explosive experiments. The old man himself was ensconced in his hearth-side chair awaiting my arrival. He put down a scroll that he was pursuing as I entered. “It took you long enough, boy. The lad I knew twenty years ago would not have kept his master waiting.”

”It must be my old age catching up with me.” I sighed as I settled into my own chair. My muscles ached from riding and too many nights spent on the cold ground. Twenty years ago I had sat on the hearth at the assassin’s feet. At least age had earned me a chair.

”When you get to my age, then perhaps you can use that as an excuse.” Chade grumbled through his whiskers. “Now. Report. You’ll have my accounting of what went on in the keep once you’ve finished with your tale.”

I did not bother asking where he would like me to begin. I began at the beginning, not bothering to skip the details that he had already been aware of thanks to our Skilling. Because he would know that his healer’s skills had not been required, I told him how I’d Skill-healed the Fool. I told him of the Pale Woman, but did not mention the Fool’s tattoos. She had not told Chade and it was not my secret to tell. I included my Skill encounter with Tintaglia as well, with a side note on the other times I’d sensed her in my mind and the dreams I suspected had come from her. I told him what information I had learned from the Piebalds, and I told him of their reactions to my proposal that they return to Buckkeep. Chade listened quietly through all of this, and then bombarded me with a series of questions that had me going through my tale again. It was a lengthy process and one that I was familiar with. After that second retelling, Chade had me make some tea for us to share and we sipped it while going over some more specific questions. 

When it was my turn to ask the questions, my first was, “Did you figure out who the other spies were that attempted to poison the Old Blood?”

Chade leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands together before lacing his fingers and resting them under his chin. “It was no small feat, combing through all of the servant’s histories. Revisiting all of the gossip. It was done, though, thanks in no small part to your information. Thankfully, we were able to stop the meal before the representatives had eaten too much. Shame that we had not caught the plot sooner, but then I suppose that if we hadn’t, you might not have been inspired to undertake your diplomatic talks with the Piebalds. Just think. It was because Dutiful Skilled to you that you confronted Henja. She then supposedly put the idea into Sharptooth’s mind that it would be a good idea to return as some sort of gift to you. I do not put any stock in the idea of prophets, but it is a fortuitous turn of events to be sure. The down side, of course, is that as envoys we cannot necessarily extract information from them as ruthlessly as we might have otherwise, but let us hope that that will not be necessary.”

”The spies?” I prompted.

”Yes, of course. I was just getting to that, boy. Be patient.” He huffed at me for interrupting him, “As I was saying. We had managed to uncover the plot thanks to your suggestion that we interview Lord Golden’s boy, Bramble. Nothing came up in the boy’s background, so I would have dismissed him were it not for your suggestion. The boy stammered and talked in circles a bit, but he eventually revealed that one of the stable boys had been blackmailing him for information on Lord Golden and his man, Badgerlock. The boy was in tears by the end of it, but one of my men gave him a stern warning that should such a situation ever arise again he should report the blackmailer directly rather than go along with him. A harsher punishment would perhaps have been more appropriate, but for a lad of his years I thought that a warning would scare him well enough. Next, my men found the stable boy. He is still being held incase he can supply more information, but in comfortable enough conditions, I assure you. He was the runner of information apparently, and he gave me the names of two kitchen girls, Maple and Magnolia. It was they who eventually revealed the plot and we were able to stop it just in time.”

”How are the negotiations proceeding now?” I asked, “Dutiful told me that the entire company of Old Blood joined in the talks.”

”Yes, and Dutiful has been present at each of the meetings.” Chade confirmed. “Surprisingly, little damage seems to have been done. The plot was explained to them as having Piebald origins. It may make discussions with your group a bit tricky, but not impossible. I would recommend making a distinction between those who saw themselves as fighting for justice and those fanatics who had been murdering families in their beds. Have your Piebalds and these Old Blood join forces to put a stop to those zealots.”

”It seems like a good solution. I’ve already suggested that the Piebalds act as informants, giving us names of people who should be brought to justice before a panel composed of witted and un-witted members.”

”Yes, I think that it might just work. We will have to tread carefully of course. The nobles are skittish about the witted as it is, and the rumoured return of FitzChivalry Farseer has put some of them up in arms, saying that the whole Six Duchies will be taken over by Beast Magickers.”

”What? My return?” A stone of dread dropped into my belly at his words.

”After your words in front of the guards as you were escorted away, how could you not expect rumours to fly?”

”They are only rumours though. Surely they will die down.”

“ Not this time Fitz, like it or not, the secret is out. The best you can do now is to mitigate the backlash. As the Witted Bastard, you are feared and hated as the murderer of King Shrewd and to counter that, you must appear to be as much a loyal Farseer as you possibly can. Many will doubt you and they already speculate that you are plotting to claim the throne and allow the other Witted to slaughter innocent Six Duchies folk in a continuation of the Piebald’s work.” He cut off my protest, “Yes, yes, I know that it is not so, but they will still say it and some of them will believe it. So. You will show them that they have nothing to fear.”

”How am I supposed to do that?” My mind reeled with the sudden news that my identity had been revealed. I stood and ferreted out a bottle of Chade’s Sandsedge brandy. I poured some into my empty tea cup and drank it down. Chade did not object and only looked at me with sympathy.

”It will not be so difficult for you. You are as loyal as they come and people will see that with time. You will need to be cautious about showing too much sympathy for the Piebalds, of course, or with Old Blood in general, for that matter, but neither should you be cold. We want progress but not so quickly that we scare the un-witted folk into rebellion. It will be delicate, but it can be done.” He gave me a look as I sat down, “You will have to conduct yourself in a manner fitting Chivalry’s bastard, of course. It would not do you harm to have a bath or brush your hair. Wear one of the nicer ensembles Lord Golden had made for you. You will want to be seen as respectable.”

”Seen? Seen where?” I demanded.

”At the talks.” Chade explained, as though I were a trifle slow, “At dinners. In the halls. You have come back, Fitz. There is no returning to a servant’s or a guardsman’s simple life for you. You will have to conduct yourself properly.”

I groaned. “Is there no other way, Chade?”

”I’m afraid not.” Chade reached for the brandy as well, “The Piebalds have returned. If you hid away and it was said that they returned without you, how would we explain it? That they had killed you and we let the death of a Farseer go unavenged? That your ghost had risen to facilitate these talks?” He shook his head, “No, Fitz. I have considered it, and this is the only way. You had best prepare yourself.”

”I had better.” I rose, dazed, and went to the concealed entrance, “Good night, Chade.”

”And to you, Fitz.” Chade lifted his cup of brandy to me in a toast.

I nodded and disappeared back into the hidden tunnels. I was so tired. It seemed as though every time I came close to finishing some task for the crown and hoped to finally have some peace, somehow some crisis or duty would arise to pull me back into the waves of politics. Now my identity was revealed. I did not want to think of it then. Did not want to imagine the stares and the whispers. Certainly, I knew that some part of myself had missed being known to the people whose company I had enjoyed in my childhood, but would Cook Sara shriek and faint if she knew that I lived? Mistress Hasty? I groaned as I realized that I had not told Patience or Lacy as I had intended to. “If she finds out through the rumours rather than from my lips she’ll kill me for good.” I murmured into the darkness.

When I emerged into Lord Golden’s chambers it was several hours since I’d left. I doubted that I would have time for more than a wink of sleep before Chade expected me to rise and attend the talks with the Piebalds. Dressed as befitted someone of the royal family. I sighed and collapsed into my chair. The rooms smelled pleasantly of flowers, probably from the Fool’s bath.

The Fool herself emerged from her bedchamber a moment later, wearing Lord Golden’s night robe and with her damp hair braided for sleep. She folded herself into her own chair, feet tucked beneath her and quirked her head at me, “You look tired. Did Chade show you no mercy?”

”None.” I confirmed, leaning my head back against the chair, “Apparently I’m to be present at the meetings, and I’m to do it as FitzChivalry Farseer.”

The Fool goggled at me, “What?”

”Apparently rumours are already floating around that I’m not actually dead. Chade wants me to show that I’m truly loyal to the Farseers and not plotting to overthrow Dutiful or destroy the Six Duchies with my wit.” I shook my head, “I would still rather just let it be.”

The Fool shot up from her chair and was suddenly before me, gripping my shoulders. I blinked up at her. Her amber eyes seemed to stare right through me, and her gaze was as eerie as it had ever been in the dim firelight but I found myself unable to look away. “Chade says that you are to attend the Piebald talks as yourself?” She repeated.

”Yes.” I said, a bit annoyed. I would have shrugged her off, but the Fool had already released me and had begun pacing around the room.

”If it is a difficult time to reveal that Dutiful is witted, surely it is just as dangerous for you to reveal not only your wit but your identity, if not more so! It could reduce the public’s faith in the Farseers and in peace with the witted.”

”I know that already, Fool.” I sighed, “Which is why it will be done carefully. Chade has thought this through already.”

The Fool rounded on me, “Oh I’m sure that he did. I am sure that the Pale Woman thought it through as well. So that’s what she was after. It was such an unlikely thread I had overlooked it. Careless of me. Stupid. I’m sure that she thought she had me. Doubtless she is already plotting and scheming and sewing the seeds for this particular plan. Luckily, we can stop her before it bares fruit.”

I sighed again. “Fool, enough. Sit down.”

I doubt that she heard me. She was following some thought and was too caught up in it now for my words to have reached her, “You must not reveal yourself, Fitz. I can help turn and shape the rumours so that they remain no more than that. It is one of those things that I am good at. No one will be the wiser. You can slip quietly away for a time and stay out of the public eye until Tom Badgerlock and FitzChivalry Farseer fade into the backs of the people’s minds.”

”Fool. Enough!” I shouted. That finally brought the Fool’s owl-like gaze to me and she halted her pacing. I continued before she could start up again, “I’ve had enough of discussing this for one evening. Chade has planned this all carefully. He wants a rebellion perhaps even less than you do. As much as I dislike it, I am sure that nothing will go wrong. I will attend the talks. The world will not end. That’s all. Can we please forget about it now?”

The Fool stared at me for a moment and then frowned, “You are thinking about this too simply, Fitz. She has plans within plans and some times even those have got plans secreted away in their pockets. Nothing is ever simple. We must-“

”I said enough, Fool.” I cut her off, “I’ve made up my mind.”

”You’ve made up your mind and you cannot even see that she’s made it up for you!” The Fool exclaimed coming to sit in her chair again, perching so that she leaned forward over her knees. “I cannot impress upon you enough how clever and how ruthless she is.”

”This is madness, Fool! Nothing more. Now leave it alone.”

The Fool was, for a wonder, silent. She sat back in her chair woodenly, like the strings had been cut from one of her puppets. She pulled her legs up to her chest and looked at me as though struck dumb. Through my annoyance I perceived that my words had been what had struck her. I felt a pang of regret, but was reluctant to let go of my anger. I was tired of planning and politics. Tired of everyone trying to pull my life in different directions. I was also tired in the physical sense and I regretted even starting the conversation when I could have just sought my bed.

”Madness.” The Fool spoke slowly, “Is that what you think? I know you’ve wondered it. You asked me countless times to speak plainly, I’ve bared to you all my secrets, and so now you conclude that I am mad?”

I was not heartless enough to agree, and truth be told, I was still not sure what I believed. I was also self-aware enough to know that conversing further in this state of mind would likely lead to more arguing. “Whatever it is, I’ve had enough of it for one evening.” I rose and headed for the door of my little room.

”Goodnight, Beloved.” A faint voice followed me.

”Goodnight, Fool.” I shut the door behind myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will have an epilogue and then the re-write of Fool's Fate will begin! Probably with a more appropriate title XD This clearly concerned more than just love and plumbing. Anyway, I have a busy month ahead of me, and I am going to plan the next story out more thoroughly, so it may take me more than my usual week to get things rolling. It will be done though!


	26. Epilogue: Reasons for Writing

_Have I misstepped? No, I am certain that I have, but how early that first blunder was, I cannot say. I find myself several measures behind in this dance: clumsy, awkward, out of place. Do I stop and wait for the next beat, match my pace to theirs, or do I hasten ahead, bumping into shoulders and treading on skirts?_

_I dreamed this, but it was an ordinary dream and I find that it was fitting. The ballroom was like the Great Hall at Buckkeep, but the decor was distinctly Jamailian in its splendour and the ceiling was breathtakingly painted with dragons in flight. The walls were not stone, but wood, and they were carved with serpents, their every scale etched painstakingly into the wood. I longed to touch it and to know it, but in my dream I did not. The other dancers were brightly clothed in beautiful robes, but their facelessness made their beauty eerie. Are they Elderlings or Humans? Who would dance in that grand hall?_

_Habit makes me record this dream to store with all of the others, though I know that it holds no significance to any but myself. Vanity perhaps, plays a role as well. It may be more accurate to say that I would like to confide my worries to someone, even if it is only in paper. I have not walked this path before, so I must tread carefully and learn the steps to this new dance. I cannot dance it without a partner, yet I fear that my arms will be empty. Such persistent troubles, to follow me into sleep._

_One other Dream I had that night. I have dreamed it before in several ways. It was my end Dream. My duty is to record these visions, but I think that I will let my past recordings speak for the nature of this one. The closer my end time comes, the more frequently the vision visits me. It is a cruel thing and I cannot bring myself to give it shape in ink today. Perhaps it is a waste of ink and vellum to record these at all. I am in a land where there are no followers of the White Prophets and I will never visit my home again. Here, these are but the scribblings of a mad man. Still, I hope that some day, these things will find their way to the archives. Perhaps they will help the next cursed soul who studies them._

— Vellum from the desk of Lord Golden

I remember the words that were written there well. I wish now that I had better considered that glimpse into the Fool's world. I wish that I had made more of an effort to make amends with my friend. Despite how often my invasion of the Fool’s privacy had damaged our friendship, the habits of a spy and assassin are difficult to break. In a way, it was my own petty revenge to take the vellum and read it, before placing it back exactly as I’d found it. I had gone to Lord Golden’s chambers to apologize but found the rooms empty yet again. It was not the first time that my attempts to start a conversation had been avoided, and I felt an irrational anger that I was being ignored. Especially when it was so difficult to steal time to myself.

The talks with the Piebalds and Old Blood had begun the day after our arrival back at Buckkeep. Tensions were high in those first few days, and the Old Blood had grievances against both the Farseers and the Piebalds for lives lost as well as the most recent attack within Buckkeep Castle’s walls. I was something of an oddity in that group. Farseer by birth, Old Blood by my magic, and I had walked in with the Piebalds. Perhaps that position gave me the unique ability to be able to speak for all sides and to consider the best interests of each. That first day, I doubted that the three groups could ever be satisfied. Progress was made slowly since then, but I still doubted that things would be resolved any time soon.

The Piebalds were not well received, initially. In fact, reactions had been hostile and had nearly brought an early end to our peace talks. A number of the Old Blood were calling for executions, and their voices were backed by the Six Duchies representatives who cast looks of disgust and loathing toward the Piebald’s side of the long table that barely disguised their fear. I spoke for the Piebalds then. I did not identify myself, but I knew that everyone suspected who I was. Feeling exposed, I sat very still as I made it clear that the Piebalds were divided. That the purpose of the Piebalds was the same as the others assembled with us: to end persecution of Old Blood. I explained that there were indeed people among the Piebalds who were not ready for peace, and had become corrupted by desire for vengeance, but that people like that could be found in any group of people. Just as there were Old Blood who wanted revenge against the un-Witted, there were un-Witted folk who would cry for the death of people with Old Blood. I acknowledged the horrible things that had been done and made clear our shared goal to end the blood shed. That day, I also put forward the proposal of the Piebalds acting as informants, and the panel of Old Blood and un-Witted folk to judge the ones guilty of crimes on either side. It was met with mixed responses, and even Kettricken seemed hesitant. It was an ambitious proposal for the first day of talks, and was set aside for a time while other suggestions were put forth amid questions and accusations.

Web was still the voice of reason among the Old Blood. Kettricken had suggested hiring staff from the Old Blood, but the most recent attack had made them skittish to allow heir sons and daughters to come to court. Web and Cockle were the exceptions and were our allies in trying to convince the Old Blood that it was the best first step in mitigating the fear of Old Blood among our nobility. Web would reason calmly and outline his logic for everyone present and Kettricken would nod or add her own logic to his. The two disagreed rarely, but when they did, it was usually solved swiftly. I envied his calm leadership and easy affability, but did not attempt to mimic it. Sharptooth was still the leader of the Piebalds, but I would speak up when my knowledge of politics or my opinions were worth speaking. My own style was blunt compared to Web’s tact, but my years of reporting and explaining my reasoning to Chade aided me in presenting my points. Web would watch me during those times, with an evaluating look that made me nervous.

Civil was also rather out of place during our talks. Being a witted noble, he was not quite a member of either group. His former allegiance with the Piebalds was not revealed. I think that the revelation of my identity increased my standing in the boy’s eyes, and he stared at me openly through the first day of our talks. The other nobles stared as well, though their speculation held more fear than awe. 

I was nervous about having made such a public figure of myself, but I tried to handle the position well. I followed Chade’s advice and after my first introduction of the Piebald’s problems and solutions, I took a position that was more like a Farseer than a Piebald or Old Blood. I said nothing of my own magic or of my birth, speaking only of the general situation, but still there were whispers and gossip. At the meal times, I retreated to my place behind the wall and listened. The Old Blood all agreed that I was the Witted Bastard, and they were more mystified and awed by my presence than troubled. The Six Duchies Representatives words confirmed what their gazes had conveyed. They were not sure of my identity, but they were afraid of me. My supposed rise from the grave was the stuff of ghost stories and legend. There was more than a little talk of the Farseers becoming too friendly with the Witted. Lords Blackwater and Vance were the most vocal, but others were quick to agree. Chade assured me that they would soon quiet down, but advised me to monitor the gossip and rumours nonetheless. It was a delicate time, with many nobles of the mind that Kettricken was putting the formation of alliances with old enemies above pleasing her own citizens. 

All of these talks and my evening spying left me with small time to myself. I had no idea whether Hap had returned to his apprenticeship or not, I had not sent Nettle her gifts, and I was unable to make amends with the Fool. I barely had time to sleep. Kettricken and Dutiful were more busy, I am sure, with correspondence with Bingtown and with the preparations for the voyage to the Outislands. I did not envy them. Chade, Dutiful, Thick, and I still assembled in the mornings for our Skill training in Verity’s tower room, but little progress was made. Thick was totally unaware that he had done anything wrong, and save for strict instructions not to discuss matters of the keep with anyone who was not one of the coterie, he had not been punished for spying. 

As I sit at my writing desk and look back on those days, I wonder if any act of mine could have changed the terrible things that would occur. Time and again I write the history of my days, analyzing and searching for the connections between what I did and what occurred. Something that I could have done differently to save all of the lives that were lost. I am not as gifted at seeing such patterns as the Fool was, and so I write them down again and again, and then I burn my useless words. Such thoughts are too little, too late.


End file.
